


Licking Qunari and Other Bad Ideas

by Blue_Sparkle



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Booty Calls, Canon Typical Violence, F/M, Fenris the Qunari whisperer, Humor, Literally nobody thought this was a good idea, Mage Hawke (Dragon Age), Purple Hawke, Rating will go up in later chapters, Vitaar is poisonous and should not be ingested
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-04-06 21:12:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19070779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Sparkle/pseuds/Blue_Sparkle
Summary: Years of admiration and mutual attraction lead to Hawke and the Arishok striking up a hesitant affair. Predictably, things don't go smoothly at any point whatsoever.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as me wondering about a situation in which Hawke could be with the Arishok while being a mage. The product is this not at all serious take on that situation. I have two more chapters written out, so updates will come weekly.

It was a questionable honour that had befallen Marian Hawke when a nervous messenger informed her that the Arishok had demanded her presence for the very first time. She was, after all, the only human whose presence didn’t disgust him, and the only human whose presence he might actually enjoy. As much as he actually _enjoyed_ anything.

Hawke hadn’t been sure what the Qunari wanted from her, but she had dutifully taken her most rustic looking staff, the one that looked just like a regular old spear to hide her nature from any over-zealous Templars, and visited the compound. She had assisted the Arishok here and there, investigating matters concerning his men and getting rid of some of the more persistent merchants who tried to weasel out some valuable information from them. The Kithshok at the gate barely even growled when she came near on business thanks to her services. But actually asking for her presence was another matter entirely.

The Sten leading her through the compound was walking too briskly for Hawke to take everything in properly, but there was what appeared to be an infirmary and some stations to repair armour here and there. The destination had been a large and beautiful tent, painted with motives Hawke couldn’t recognize, and the Sten hadn’t followed her in after motioning for her to enter.

There had been lots of things Hawke expected, but a large low table with cushions thrown around it and a tea set on it wasn’t one of them. The Arishok had sat at one end of the table, glowering at her and motioning for her to sit before telling her to take some of the tea.

“Is this a visit for business or pleasure,” Hawke had asked as she poured some of the fragrant tea for herself. “Didn’t think I’d ever have to ask a Qunari _that_.”

The Arishok had narrowed his eyes but ignored the tease.

“You are one of the few who has earned my respect enough to be invited to my table. Share a meal and let us speak of this city. Of your people, such as they are.”

A cultural exchange program, it had turned out, with the Arishok speaking of Seheron and Par Vollen, while asking Hawke about Kirkwall and Ferhelden in turn, inviting her back after that first time. Never anything that was of any use in terms of military strategy as far as Hawke could tell, but always an attempt to understand the world of humans. Always an attempt to figure out why one as Hawke would want to stay in such a place, to make sense of why they were just like they happened to be.

Sometimes Hawke wondered if this was some strange drawn out attempt to convert her to the Qun. But she was quite alright with that, given that the Arishok’s tent always featured strong flagrant tea and spicy meat filled dough parcels. And the rules of hospitality were such that she could tease and jest and poke fun at the Qun without fear of the Arishok ripping out her throat while in his tent. Presumably.

A risk she found well worth taking.

She barely even thought of that now, or at least tried not to. 

“You always make it sound so obvious and clear,” Hawke said as she enjoyed what was the third visit to the Qunari compound that week alone. “No individuality exists but to go against your very own nature is wrong. Wouldn’t that mean that being an absolutely chaotic person is right and that person is never truly out of order? They are simply following their nature in being wild, it’s everyone else who doesn’t accept what is meant to be.”

The Arishok stared at Hawke with barely concealed annoyance, fists balled. She winked as she liked a few crumbs off her fingers, pleased that it had taken her less than ten minutes of discussion to break the man’s composure today. It wasn’t even like Hawke particularly cared to prove him wrong in whatever way, or that she was listening closely to what he was saying every time. Currently her mind was mostly occupied with wondering how Isabela would resolve her latest lost bet against Varric without… incidents.

“You are being purposefully obtuse,” he accused. “To wilfully go against the greater order, to bring chaos is not what anyone is meant to-”

“So anything you don’t understand is chaos?” Hawke interrupted, reaching for the tea. She had managed to drain most of her cup despite making sure to interrupt the Arishok as often as possible. He had barely gotten a word in so far, and Hawke imagined that she could see his clawed hands clench in barely contained anger. “Just because it seems disruptive doesn’t mean it’s without cause. A hoard of bears in the middle of Hightown would be called chaotic, but you wouldn’t call those poor bears purposeless.”

“Because it is not their purpose to be inside this ulcer of a city,” the Arishok snapped. By now he was gritting his teeth and Hawke had to hide her smirk behind her cup. “I have told you this before, _Venak hol_ , you simply refused to listen as your kind is wont to do. If one is completely out of place within their community, it is the fault of those who placed them in such a position. Seeing unruly behaviour will always be reason to call tamassrans to reassess where their place in the world is.”

Hawke nodded thoughtfully and met the Arishok’s eye. He watched her for a few moments, and as she made no protest he visibly relaxed, finally reaching for his own cup, nearly forgotten. Then Hawke grinned.

“So you admit that chaotic behaviour should be accepted and society is the thing that should change?”

With a growl the Arishok set his cup down with a loud clack.

“ _Maaras imekari_ , are you trying to prove to me that there is no mind worth speaking of in the head of even the best of humans?”

“So sweet when you call me the best of my kind. I do wonder why you haven’t given up trying to teach the Qun if even I-”

Hawke’s cheerful singsong was interrupted as the Arishok’s patience finally snapped and his hand shot out towards her face. For a second she assumed that he was going to shake her or shove her much like she did with her siblings when they got too annoyed with each other. Instead his hand wrapped around her jaw and neck, impressively massive against her comparatively tiny human skull. His thumb pressed against her lips, claw tinkling the tip of her nose.

It was a firm hold, ensuring that she couldn’t speak easily or pull away without wiggling away from the claws, but Hawke felt no pain or more than the light brush of claws where they were resting against her skin without pressing in. It didn’t feel threatening at all, and the Arishok had only leaned in as far as he needed to reach her face. Still Hawke went quiet and watched him, surprised by the gesture that could nearly be considered childish, hadn’t she been needling him so much before. 

“If you do not wish to listen today, then do not speak,” the Arishok said, his voice rumbling through Hawke’s chest. It occurred to her that they had never been this close really. She certainly had never touched the Arishok’s skin.

“You are sharp and full of wit, you have an intelligence in you that this city’s weak viscount could never dream of. Yet you have this inexplicable need to be difficult and irritate, like a common crow mocking the eagle. Learn when to hold your tongue, Hawke, or else you one day will encounter those who’ll tear it out.”

Hawke blinked, staring at the Arishok’s silvery pale eyes. Then her lips twitched in a smile.

“You’re not the one to do it, are you? So my tongue is perfectly safe in your presence at least.”

The Arishok’s thumb dug in firmer against her lips, making it harder to speak towards the end of the sentence.

“Do not mistake my hospitality for endless patience, Hawke. One day I will decide to-”

Before he could finish Hawke stuck out her tongue, winked, and licked as much of the Arishok’s painted hand as she could reach. Her tongue was pressed against his entire thumb pad and the Arishok looked utterly speechless for the first time Hawke had seen. Carver would barely have blinked at such antics, but not everyone grew up with siblings after all.

For a few seconds neither moved, the Arishok simply staring at her with a dumbfounded expression and Hawke’s heart racing at the realisation that she had licked the leader of the Qun’s entire military.

Finally the hold on her head was released and the Arishok pulled away his hand, glancing down at it and frowning.

“I pity the tamassran who would have been charged to raise you. Leave me for today, Hawke. Do not return until our next meeting, if you wish to make a fool of yourself.”

Hawke suppressed a sigh of relief and rose to her feet with a bow.

“What if there’s an emergency I need to tell you about?”

The Arishok furrowed his brow and stared.

“Ah, I’ll try to solve it myself, thanks for the tea.”

Hawke very nearly skipped her way out of the Qunari compound, feeling elated and giddy in a way only driving somebody up the wall could make her. Or as far up the wall as someone as stubbornly composed as the Arishok would go.

 

*

 

Fenris didn’t often leave his mansion when the sun was still halfway up in the sky, but he had woken up early and had nothing better to do than to visit the Hanged Man. The patrons there had long since learned not to bother him, and usually one of his friends showed up with interesting stories eventually.

This time Hawke joined him while he was still working on his first mug of ale. Strange for her to be in this early, and Fenris had thought that she was invited to tea and philosophy at the Qunari compound. Those social calls lasted longer than this, most days.

Hawke seemed to be in a good mood but not willing to talk much, so they simply ordered more ale and drank in companionable silence. Fenris would have been happy to leave it at that, had he not noticed Hawke swallowing uncomfortably ever so often, her hand rising up to knead at her throat. Her lips were slightly reddened and swollen, and occasionally Hawke would take big gulps of her drink and then work her jaw and cough as if in pain.

Fenris watched her carefully, wondering if maybe she was sick and her throat was infected. Perhaps he should tell her to return home and take a rest. He didn’t want to presume though, he himself tended to hide any sign of weakness like this as much as he could.

Finally Hawke turned to him, face twisted in discomfort and pain. When she spoke she sounded strange, as if her tongue didn’t quite obey her.

“Listen… Fenris, you’re an expert on all things Qunari, right?”

He snorted.

“Wouldn’t call myself an expert, but I know some things, yes.”

“So… the fancy paint they have all over their bodies?”

“Vitaar?” Fenris frowned. “What of it?”

Hawke winced and kneaded her throat again.

“Can you be allergic to it?”

Fenris set his mug down.

“It’s incredibly poisonous to humans and elves when ingested. It protects Qunari against bites by most things. Why do you wish to know?”

Hawke rose with her chair scraping sharply against the floorboards.

“Poisonous when ingested? Oh no.”

“Hawke,” Fenris asked sharply, staring up at her. “Did you ingest any? Did you _lick_ a Qunari?”

“Can’t speak, gotta go see Anders immediately! You can have my drink.”

Hawke waved cheerfully and then bolted out of the tavern as quickly as she could. Fenris started after her for a few moments, trying very hard not to think of how or why she might have come in contact with vitaar like that.

Then he shook his head and pulled her drink towards himself. He would need it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> since the fic is very nearly finished I'll do a bi-weekly update, I think. Enjoy!

The sun had only just started colouring the sky a pale yellow when Hawke woke up with a groan. Her side was one entire spot of ugly bruises, luckily mostly faded thanks to Anders’ magic but still very much a sore spot. She whined quietly, cursing the new shield she had gotten Aveline, and how she had failed to dodge it during yesterday’s sparring match.

The ache wasn’t the worst Hawke had ever had, but persistent enough to make going back to sleep impossible. Might as well start the day then.

She rose and kicked Lupe out of her bed, groaning as her mabari tried to lie down on Hawke to keep her master in bed just a little longer. Once that was taken care off Hawke washed herself quickly and reapplied the poultice Anders had given her with the condition that she go hunt down more ingredients for it eventually. Good healing herbs were hard to get when one ran a free of charge clinic in Darktown after all.

None of the other members of the household were awake yet, so Hawke got dressed quickly and snuck out into the kitchen to steal a couple bread rolls from the previous night. There was nothing to do without accidentally waking everyone, so Hawke decided to go about her day as usual. She had a meeting with the Arishok, though it would probably be rude to arrive too early.

It was a lovely day outside and Hawke decided to wander the markets, seeing what was offered first thing in the morning, thinking about the meeting later on.

Weeks had passed since the Arishok had essentially kicked her out, and he had never mentioned the incident of her acting like a brat on purpose again. The only thing that had changed was that he no longer wore vitaar on his hands when a meeting was scheduled. It was strange to see his fingers bare, looking so much more like a normal man’s hands without the layer of black paint, despite the sharp claws. They were broad and calloused like any other warrior’s Hawke had seen. Instead of the paint the Arishok put on gloves when he was called out for some duty, and somehow Hawke liked to think that he had done this for her benefit, even if she certainly didn’t plan to lick him again any time soon.

To make up for her behaviour that day Hawke had promised herself to be a bit less difficult with him for a little while at least. No more dumb questions or teasing or deliberately misunderstanding him when it was the Arishok’s turn to speak of his culture, even if he kept insulting hers. Deservedly so.

The Arishok wasn’t necessarily the kind of storyteller that would be popular in the Hanged Man, and certainly was nowhere near Varric’s skills. But he had a gravity to his voice that demanded attention, he chose his words well, and his stories were fascinating to say the least. When she didn’t interject to tease him, Hawke found herself quite enraptured by his tales.

Once or twice she had even slipped up and let her curiosity get the better of her. She had asked to clarify some ideas of the Qun, or asked about aspects of life in Par Vollen. Hawke knew she had forgotten herself each time the Arishok smiled and it wasn’t a smirk. He approved of her questions it seemed, glad to elaborate when needed.

“I am no tamassran and it is not my purpose to teach the Qun,” he told Hawke. “But you are quick to grasp the ideas even so. I knew you were being dense on purpose when you questioned me in a foolish manner.”

Hawke rarely liked to show her wit without a big layer of sarcasm to cover it up neatly, but she figured that the Arishok already knew that she was capable and a strong warrior. She had proven herself, and to him her actions in assistance to the Qunari spoke louder than the precise nature her work; unlike to most other men Hawke had encountered in her life. He wouldn’t underestimate her for being a mercenary with no real training and she wouldn’t benefit of him doing so, so what did it matter?

Hawke wandered around the markets just long enough for the sun to rise a little over the rooftops before boredom got the better of her. The Kithshok guarding the gate didn’t comment on her early arrival though he frowned for a good two seconds longer before waving her into the compound. Despite the early hour the Qunari inside were already milling about just as at any other time of day. Hawke supposed that since they were all soldiers, this was probably normal.

Hawke had been around often enough that nobody needed to lead her to the Arishok’s tent, though she was sure that she would be stopped if she decided to snoop around anywhere else.

Once she reached the tent Hawke politely knocked at one of the posts.

“Shanedan, Arishok, I’m here.”

“You may enter.”

Hawke pushed past the tent flaps and entered the Arishok’s private home. It was set up differently than usual, with the table pushed to the side and no tea or food prepared. 

What surprised her though, was the Arishok. He wore none of his usual adornments, and armour was carefully laid out before him, freshly polished. His hair was braided back in several smaller queues, with a few ties laid out on the pillows by his side along with a comb. He looked as if he had been in the process of undoing the style as Hawke entered.

“Did I come at an inopportune moment?” Hawke asked, stopping a few steps away from him. 

“No.”

“I know I’m too early.”

“Not too early, merely earlier than I accounted for when sparring this morning.”

“I find sparring after noon more convenient myself,” Hawke said conversationally as she sat down near him, watching as the Arishok reached to undo another tie. 

The Arishok hummed but didn’t reply, focused on the task on undoing the braids blindly. They were tied together in some complicated pattern, Hawke realized, probably something he had help with that morning, too elaborate to be mere function. As he always sent away anyone who was present in the tent when Hawke appeared she wondered if maybe somebody had started helping the Arishok undo it when he was informed of her arrival.

“Is this something you usually get help with?”

The Arishok frowned and glanced at her. After a few seconds of searching her expression for a hidden mockery he nodded.

“This is a ceremonial style that usually is done by others. We do this for one another before battle.”

Hawke gestured to his hair.

“Do you want help with that?”

It earned her a sharp glance.

“This is not your task. Do not think me incapable of taking care of myself.”

Hawke shrugged.

“I don’t. But you said yourself, others usually do this and it’s kind of my fault for interrupting you in the first place. Let me apologize and provide you this service.”

For a few seconds the Arishok simply stared at her, and Hawke was sure that he would refuse, but then he picked up the comb and held it out to her.

“Very well. This is not something one can mess up.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Hawke got up to her feet and took the comb with a grin as the Arishok sat down in a meditative pose. Even sitting down on the floor the Arishok’s head was just in reach when she stood behind him. With anyone else this position would have had an air of vulnerability about it, but even with his back turned the Arishok oozed power. It was probably the presence of the horns. 

Hawke took one moment to run her hand over his long white hair to assess the style, before she quickly got to work.

The separate braids curled and twisted around each other, braided into more complicated sections with ties holding everything together here and there, some sections curling around one of the Arishok’s pairs of horns. Each time she pulled a tie loose the Arishok wordlessly took it from her and laid it out with the others so she wouldn’t have to bend down to do so.

It was strangely meditative, running her hands through his hair to undo the braids and then combing out each freed section to avoid knots and tangles. The Arishok’s hair was incredibly soft, though the strands were thicker than any human’s hair she had ever touched.

After a while Hawke felt herself lost in thought. It wasn’t usual for her to be this quiet for this long while working on a mindless task, but this was just as she had done in her earliest childhood. Being little and sitting by the fire with Bethany was one of her fondest memories. She teased her little siblings mercilessly but this had always been a peaceful moment of truce between them, free of bickering and petty fights.

The Arishok’s hair was white and straight, not the raven waves Bethany had inherited from their mother, but is was very much like those moments.

“You are skilled in this, for somebody who wears their hair so short,” Arishok observed after a while.

“I used to brush and braid my sister’s hair,” Hawke explained. Her voice was heavy with emotion, and the Arishok paused.

“You have not spoken of a sister before,” he observed.

“No,” Hawke agreed, feeling the familiar tinge of grief. It had been years now, since their ill-fated flight from Lothering. “I had a little sister, Bethany. She was a sweet girl, always seeing the good in people and wanting to better the world. When the Blight reached us we tried to run. She was killed trying to defend us from an ogre.”

“ _Asit tal-eb_ ,” the Arishok said. “Your sister sounds like she was an admirable person. Your city wouldn’t have deserved the good she might have done.”

Hawke let out a bark of laughter.

“That’s high praise coming from you.”

“It is not praise if it is true,” the Arishok replied. “If your sister was anything like you.”

“She was better than me. You would have liked her more. Much more polite.”

Hawke ran the comb through the Arishok’s hair thoughtfully.

“My home was destroyed during the Blight, my family torn apart. I can never return, but at the very least I’ll have fond memories of it.”

She felt far too sombre for this early in the morning, and it was rare that Hawke permitted such vulnerability to be shown. At least the Arishok’s back was to her, and he wouldn’t be able to see her face.

For a few moments they were silent, Hawke working the comb through his hair and the Arishok sitting motionlessly. Finally he spoke.

“None of us can return to the past. In the Qun we lay down our childhood roles and names when we come of age. We become who the Qun needs us to be, who were meant to become. It is no longer us, but it is still part of what forged us. You lost your home and your sister, but it has made you who you are now. Honour your past.”

“That’s very sweet of you to say,” Hawke said with a smile. She could imagine the frown being called sweet would earn her.

After a few beats of silence the Arishok shifted slightly.

“The name my age-mates and Tama- tamassran used to have for me was Asaaranda.”

Hawke’s hands stilled in surprise. She hadn’t thought Qunari had individual names beyond their roles, and certainly not names to share with outsiders.

“Does it have a meaning?”

“Asaaranda means thunderstorm. They said I always had a presence about me, the promise of great force, like a storm rolling in over the ocean. My tamassran used to say that I was meant to command and to lead.”

Hawke tried to imagine a tinier version of the Arishok, horns not yet grown in and perpetually grumpy. When she had been in a bad mood as a little girl magical thunder used to crack over her skin before she learned to control it. The image was very nearly cute. For once she bit back a joke, not wishing to insult the Arishok in what felt like a very important moment.

“Thank you for telling me this,” she said. “I’m honoured to be trusted with this information.”

The Arishok grunted but didn’t reply. His hair was free of its braids now, slightly wavy in places where the braids had left their mark and Hawke ran her hands through it to straighten it out.

“Really, it’s nice to hear about your past. I think most of us forget that Qunari grow up from childhood like anyone else. It’s probably why everyone is scared shitless.”

Her hands brushed over the biggest set of horns, gently rubbing over the rough surface and at their base. The Arishok let out a soft groan and his shoulders relaxed minutely. He did it again when Hawke experimentally pressed her fingers against the base of his horns again, rumbling deep in his chest, his shoulders slumping before stiffening up, alert.

“This is not something you should be doing,” the Arishok hissed quietly.

“Something I shouldn’t be doing, or something you don’t _want_ me to do? You seemed to enjoy it.”

“There is no difference.”

Hawke shrugged, though he still hadn’t turned to look at her.

“Hey, if this is some cultural taboo or you don’t like it I’ll stop. But if it’s something nice, why not? I already brushed your hair, it can’t be that different. I don’t mind rubbing your horns if that’ll keep you from getting a headache.”

The Arishok’s shoulders remained drawn up and tense for a few moments longer, before he leaned away from her touch to retrieve a small clay pot from near his hair ties and handed it to her.

“Then I would ask you to continue how this would normally go after unbraiding. This is hornbalm, we apply it much like your kind would apply hair oil.”

Hawke opened up the pot and examined the salve inside. It was creamy white and smelled of something sweet and flowers and spices she could only barely recognize.

As if hearing her sniff it the Arishok started to list off some of the ingredients, most of which one could occasionally get in Hightown markets.

“You can create it from many different things,” the Arishok finished. “The purpose would be fulfilled with only half of these. But it is traditional to include all these things that are found on Par Vollen. It is a soothing scent that the youngest imekari grow used to and some of the ingredients are burned during meditation and study.”

“It smells wonderful,” Hawke said with a grin as she scooped up some of it and rubbed it in her palms before starting to apply it to the Arishok’s horns. “Good to know that you Qunari like frivolous things too.”

“It is not frivolous.”

It took a while to get the hang of it. The Arishok’s horns were massive, bracketing Hawke’s body even as she stood behind him and she had to wrap both hands around them at their thickest part. Occasionally the Arishok would direct her but he seemed pleased with her work, if his relaxed posture was anything to go by. He had no feeling in his horns, as he told her, but it clearly was an enjoyable sensation nevertheless.

When she was finally finished it was just little after the time Hawke had been supposed to arrive.

“I would quite enjoy some tea, if I haven’t overstayed my welcome,” she said as the Arishok rose to his feet.

“You have not.”

The Arishok moved towards the entrance of the tent to order someone to fetch boiling water for the tea and Hawke subtly smelled her palms before wiping them off on her jacket. The horn balm smelled amazing, and she absolutely wouldn’t mind using some of the ingredients for her own skin or hair. If it wasn’t poisonous that was; one exasperated lecture on the safety of using foreign substances from Anders had been one too many already.

 

*

 

His connections to the merchant guilt meant that occasionally Varric’s friends would request he find some rare goods for them. It wasn’t anything outlandish… usually. Fenris had asked for Tevene candy while threatening to do harm if Varric ever breathed a word of it, Isabela asked for perfume from Rivain, Anders and Merril would ask for ingredients for magical concoctions they didn’t want to be seen buying themselves.

When Hawke arrived with a list of things Varric assumed that it would once again be Ferelden goods and things to gift to her mother. Instead he was meat with a list of things he had no idea if he even _could_ acquire for her.

“What am I supposed to do with this, chuckles?”

He waved at the list and Hawke shrugged.

“It’s for a very important diplomatic gift.”

“You don’t do diplomacy,” Varric said as he examined her handwriting. Most of it were spices and floral extracts he could probably get from Rivain. “Cocoa butter? What do you even _do_ with that stuff? I’ve never seen it used in anything.”

“Qunari use it for their beauty regime,” Hawke said with a grin. “Guess I figured out how they keep their horns so shiny.”

Varric stared at her for a few seconds before shaking his head and laughing quietly.

“I’ll find your ingredients for diplomacy,” he promised and tucked the list into his pocket. “But I expect to hear the full story in return.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Qunlat translations so you don't have to keep running to the wiki:
> 
> Shanedan: Literally, "I'll hear you." A respectful greeting.  
> Asit tal-eb: "The way things are meant to be." or "It is to be." A driving principle of the Qunari philosophy.


	3. Chapter 3

Taking care of the Arishok’s hair and rubbing the cream into his horns quickly became a new tradition before taking their tea and discussing all sorts of matters. It meant that Hawke had to rise much earlier than usual, but it was also strangely meditative so she didn’t mind too much.

Creating several batches of the balm had still left her with a small barrel of cocoa butter though. Isabela had caught wind of this, of course, and immediately offered her expertise in exchange for some of it.

“It’s a bit rare back home,” the pirate explained as she lounged on Anders’ cot. “Kind of a luxury. Some people use cocoa for food but it doesn’t keep very long. Makes more sense to get it like that if you’re going to spend all that coin.”

Hawke sniffed the mismatched pots in front of her, all filled with the leftover cocoa, some of which she had gifted to Isabela.

“I don’t really see the appeal in all the fancy Orlesian creams mother likes to get, but this is nice.”

“It’s because the Orlesians drown everything in flowers,” Isabella complained. “Much too sweet with nothing to break it up. Probably smells worse to you Fereldens, after a lifetime of wet dog smell.”

She threw a pointed glance at Anders, who barely looked up from his writing. He seemed to prefer to stay out of the women’s way completely when they occupied his space to chat and mix up questionable things. The only time he ever interjected was the time Hawke tried to help Isabela with a poison the use of which she refused to reveal, and then it had been to offer advice on how to make it more potent.

Hawke grinned and handed Isabela her comb. 

“Right, how much do I need of this then?”

“Here, let me do it.”

Isabela eyed her short hair critically for a moment. She scooped out some of the stuff to rub it between her fingers and motioned for Hawke to sit down in front of her.

“This should be enough for you. Just rub it in like this.”

Hawke waited patiently as Isabella rubbed the cream through her hair, rubbing her nails against her scalp in a pleasant way. She was done quickly and released Hawke with a pat to her head.

“Here you go. Soon your hair will be as silky and nice as mine,” Isabela said with a wink. “Will make everyone want to sink their fingers into it to pull, if you’re into that.”

“There’s too many conditions to be met before I’d enjoy anyone doing that,” Hawke snorted. “Most men who try think a tug and an artless thrust of their dick is good enough.”

Anders choked on his spit somewhere behind her and Isabela cackled and pinched Hawke’s cheek.

“If you want finesse I can find you someone. Or help you out myself, if you wish.”

“Another time, dear. I’ve got a hot date with someone who will absolutely not do any of it for me, even badly.”

Isabela hummed and watched Hawke put away the tools and ingredients she had used.

“Pity those Qunari are so wholly uninterested in sinful activities. They’d be good for it, I’m sure.”

Hawke laughed and shook her head.

“At least we have our dreams.”

It was too early in the morning for the usual array of thugs in Darktown, so Hawke reached the docks quickly and cheerfully. It was a nice day with fresh wind coming in from the sea, though as she approached the compound she spotted a small flock of nobles with their guards, looking quite irritated and going the other way.

The Kithshok at the gate looked even more irritated than usual as well, though he let Hawke through without any complaint himself. It seemed like the Arishok had been graced with the presence of the worst kind of humans, so Hawke adjusted her expectations to that of being about to meet a man at the brink of his patience.

And indeed, inside the Arishok’s tent she was met with an atmosphere of barely contained frustration and a Qunari with a scowl more severe than usual.

The Arishok was dressed in his usual regalia, though his armour was set out just as it usually was after his early morning spar. He was shifting his right shoulder as if it was sore from a good hit or too hard a work out, and when Hawke entered he tensed for a moment before relaxing again.

“You should be honoured,” he said in lieu of a greeting. “There is no other bas I would tolerate in my presence for the rest of the day.”

“Thank you for that,” Hawke said with a grin. “Did my people make a nuisance of themselves again?”

A tea set was already waiting today, so she busied herself with preparing and pouring both of them a drink. The Arishok breathed in deeply as she moved past him, leaning towards her for a moment and relaxing as she handed him a cup.

“They bleat like _qalaba_. Servants run away from them to join the Qun so they demand I return them. My people refuse to pay more than the fair price at their markets but they want recompense for dealing with them. As if any of this is my concern or something I would assist them with.”

“Sounds tiring,” Hawke commented, picking up the comb and pot of horn balm that had waited for her on her most recent visits.

“Nothing to concern myself with,” the Arishok said. “I wait for the day they learn to leave their whining be.”

“Let me help you take your mind of all that then,” Hawke offered, getting in position behind him. It was still strange that she had to stand in order to take care of the hair of somebody sitting on the ground.

“I already have,” the Arishok replied nose twitching slightly, but took up his meditative position anyway. 

His hair was already loose and falling over his shoulders so Hawke moved on to taking care of his horns. 

“You never really explained how much you can feel in your horns,” Hawke mused after a while. “Or why you have what, four pairs on your head while some of your men only have one or two. Or the different shapes. Is it random?”

“It is inherited from those who birth us,” the Arishok said. He rarely spoke as Hawke worked the balm into his horns, and his voice was a low rumble. She would have called it sleepy in anyone else. “It is a trait much like the colour of your eyes. Blue is rare among your kind, I was told.”

“What, eight horns is the equivalent of blue eyes?” Hawke snorted. “It’s not that rare in Ferelden.”

“Some Sten say we have horns because ages ago the blood of dragons was introduced to our people’s line,” the Arishok went on. “The shape is as varied as that of high dragons they say, and I have seen enough skulls to see the similarities. Some are born without horns. We believe that these are destined for greatness. There was a Sten in Ferelden without. He has aided your hero in stopping the Blight.”

Hawke had heard the stories, of course, though there was not much detail to be had on all of the heroic Elven mage’s companions.

“Must be a strange sight though,” she said as she rubbed against the base of the horns, just over the Arishok’s brow. “Yours are quite impressive though. Bet you could sit down an entire human on top of them.”

The Arishok had started to rumble as Hawke gently massaged where skin met horn, pleased to have found a sensitive spot like that. It was probably as nice as skilled hands on her temples when she suffered from drained mana.

Encouraged by the reaction Hawke leaned in further, putting more force behind her movement. She’d have offered to rub his shoulders to work out the kinks in his back or something like that, but somehow she doubted that she could do much good with muscles that looked as if they were made of solid rock.

A breath escaped the Arishok’s lips, and he tensed up suddenly.

“ _Parshaara_! You did enough.”

Hawke paused her motions, her fingertips stilling where they were wrapped around both of his main horns.

“Is this about something you want but feel like you shouldn’t again? We talked about how unnecessary that is when it’s just you and me here. Or do you not like that?”

“I did not say I did not like it. But the matter of want is not important.”

“It is not?” she demanded. She sighed in frustration, running a hand through her own hair as she thought. “If you truly do not want me to continue then sure, I’ll stop, but if it’s some vague Qun self-denial rules, which I suspect it is, then… honestly, after what I guess was a pretty damn bad morning, you deserve some slack. Tell me honestly: do you enjoy this?”

“Yes.”

Hawke shrugged and tapped a finger against the horn.

“So why not accept a bit of indulgence?”

The Arishok growled and shifted his shoulders. It made Hawke somehow more aware of how close they were, how warm his skin was only inches away from her.

“This is not about me. I do not wish for you to put yourself in a situation you did not anticipate.”

His voice sounded slightly strained now, with just the tiniest hitch in his breathing. He wasn’t just sensitive, Hawke realized. She had actually found a proper _sensitive_ spot. Ah.

Ever unable to keep herself from doing the dumbest possible thing Hawke grinned and leaned against the Arishok slightly. It was the greatest physical contact they ever had between them, even if she wasn’t actually touching his skin. Her chest brushed against the Arishok’s shoulders lightly.

“What sort of situation, hm?”

Finally the Arishok moved, shifting away from her and nearly bowing before finally turning, somehow correctly judging the distance he had to go without his head turn smacking his horns into Hawke’s body. He looked frustrated.

“It is not about what I enjoy or not,” he repeated with deliberate patience. “I tell you to stop because you don’t know what you are doing and I will not sit here as you unknowingly mock my reactions.”

Hawke paused, taking in his state. The Arishok’s breathing was quickened by a fraction, his pointed ears were tense and trembling lightly. The way he watched her only confirmed that she hadn’t misjudged his reaction and she could feel her own pulse quicken in response. He shifted where he sat, uncomfortable in his position now it seemed- oh!

She could feel a wave of lust wash over her in response, taking in the massive frame of copper dusted grey skin, the warrior’s physique, the form of a man she had spent quite a bit time of pleasant conversation with. Hawke had slept with people with less personal interest and attractiveness, and it had been a while since she had a good lay.

Why not offer?

_Because this was the_ Arishok _, a Maker damned Qunari who certainly had some cultural hang ups about this hidden away somewhere, the leader of a foreign power currently occupying her city and the brink of hostility._

But… really not the _dumbest_ choice for who to sleep with, surely?

Hawke grinned and canted her hips, relaxing her pose in what she hoped would be read as invitation. How did one even flirt among Qunari anyway?

“Maybe I do know. Maybe I would very much like to… _follow up_ on this, if you’re up for it?”

The Arishok was motionless for a few seconds, simply staring. His face betrayed no emotion or whether he was taken aback or not. It was a little unnerving to be stared at like that without any clue of whether or not her attempt at seduction had worked. Usually Hawke got some sort of reaction to indicate whether to back off and try somewhere else or keep going, not a complete non-reaction.

Then the Arishok rose to his feet and turned his back to her.

“Our meeting today is over.”

Hawke bit her lip in disappointment and lowered her eyes. So that was that then.

“That was out of line. I apologize,” she said, bowing, though he wasn’t looking at her, and quickly left the tent and marched towards the exit of the compound.

For once Hawke felt some regret for acting as she did, poking at any weakness and trying to provoke reactions or leaping in headfirst into stupid ideas. To her surprise it wasn’t even that she regretted not getting laid. She had probably risked never getting invited back again, with the Arishok fed up with her presence.

As the gates closed behind her Hawke found herself hoping that this wasn’t the last time she was permitted to enter the Qunari’s space freely.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey the rating goes up in this chapter

Hawke was dozing quietly, not quite asleep but not awake enough to get up and draw the curtains and block out the light of both moons shining right onto her bed. Usually nobody bothered her when she was in her room and everything was dark, but Lupe raised her head just as the floorboards creaked outside.

Orana’s timid knock followed suit and Hawke slid out of bed to open her door and meet the Elf.

“There is a message for you, ser,” she said with a worried frown and handed over a small folded envelope. “The runner looked quite distraught, ser Hawke.”

“Thank you, I’ll take care of whatever it is,” Hawke promised.

She stepped towards the window and opened up the folded paper to see an unfamiliar but extremely neat handwriting.

“After much consideration I have made a decision. As you have put it, I am willing to follow up on the offer you have made the last time you visited our territory. If you wish to discuss the matter further, you will come at once. The gates will be opened for you.”

It wasn’t signed but Hawke was struck speechless as she tried to process the letter. Had the Arishok just bootycalled her? Really?!

She glanced around thoughtfully, wondering how exactly she was supposed to react. She couldn’t just walk up to the Qunari compound in the middle of the night to what, have sex with the leader of the Qunari. Could she?

“Oh sod it,” Hawke muttered to herself and chuckled, running a hand through her hair nervously.

This wasn’t how things usually went. Not for her. Not with the _Arishok_.

Instead of fretting too much over it Hawke did what she did best; jumping headfirst into ill advised situations. She quickly got dressed in sturdy leather armour and equipped her most subtle and spear like staff, before making Lupe return to her bed and sneaking outside. Hawke had been a young girl the last time she snuck out of the house under her mother’s nose, and she really didn’t need to anymore, but this felt like the sort of situation that warranted such behaviour.

Hawke artfully slipped through the dark streets, avoiding any sign of trouble and reaching the gate to the compound unscathed. The Qunari guarding it gave her an unimpressed stare as he opened up the gate and let her through, making Hawke wonder if everyone knew why she was there, or whether the Arishok had simply given a command to let her through. 

It was as quiet as Kirkwall ever got, with the sound from the sea nearby, and several Qunari awake on patro. Nobody paid her much mind as she made her way to the Arishok’s tent and slipped inside after a polite knock to one of the post.

The table and the cushions around it were pushed out of the way, leaving only a few chests and the Arishok’s armour where it always was. One of the curtain like walls had been moved though, leaving the tent larger than it was before and revealing a stack of furs and more cushions piled up to form a sort of bed, with a few lamps standing nearby.

The Arishok sat on top of it, hands on his knees and staring at Hawke with a seriousness that didn’t quite suit the intended situation. He was only wearing pants and his leg armour, his feet and torso bare. Hawke paused at the tent’s entry, taking him in with wonder. The usual red and black paint that covered his body in intimidating patterns was missing; his grey skin was instead covered by sharp delicate lines that formed an intricate design on his body. This, more than the lack of armour, made him look strangely naked.

“So you came,” the Arishok said in lieu of a greeting and Hawke couldn’t help but grin.

“Not yet, but I hope to do so in the near future.”

His eyes narrowed but he didn’t respond to that. He rose to his feet and beckoned Hawke closer with his hand. Not deterred by his unchanged demeanour Hawke stepped closer, still grinning. It probably would have been strange for him to act any different than normal, regardless of the situation.

“You wish to bed me,” the Arishok said. It was more statement than question but Hawke nodded as he waited for a response.

“If it’s not too much of a hardship for you.”

“It is not.”

The Arishok looked up and over Hawke’s head for a moment, before meeting her eyes again.

“This is not done. Qunari do not normally seek pleasure with anyone who is not a tamassran, who are trained for such matters. In truth those who require it chose to turn to members of their Kith when away from Par Vollen. Never with bas.”

He paused, fixing Hawke with his stare.

“You are basalit-an, an outsider worthy of respect. There are rules and customs I would not even consider going against if it weren’t for who you are.”

Hawke watched him for a few seconds before smiling. From him this was the greatest admission of respect she could possibly expect to a human, and as close to sweet talk as he probably knew how to get.

“I’m honoured by this.”

The Arishok shifted his weight, not quite relaxed but less stiff than before.

“Good. If you wish to leave, you can, and I will not stop you or mention this again. If you are willing, we can begin.”

Hawke’s smile sharpened and she raised her hand to touch an unpainted stretch of skin on the Arishok’s stomach. His skin was hotter than expected, and his body solid.

“Then lets get to the fun part.”

The Arishok stepped away from her touch and motioned towards the bed.

“Get undressed.”

Hawke raised her eyebrow and started undoing the laces of her vest teasingly. She knew a thing or two about making a show of revealing skin, but the Arishok turned his back to her and started working on his own clothes wordlessly. Fine then. No finesse in this part. She briefly hoped that the sex would be more than just the barest effort and all too practical. Not that Hawke minded taking matters into her own hand in getting off, but she really did hope that the Arishok was at least somewhat good in bed.

Hawke made quick work of her clothes while throwing furtive glances at the Arishok. He wore much less and was completely bare before she could set aside her gear and clothes herself. Powerful legs were revealed and an endless expanse of silvery gold skin stretched out before her eyes. The beautiful black lines ran over his legs as well, emphasising the run of his muscles and providing a contrast to his skin. Then he turned around and Hawke had to contain a whistle.

Of course he would be proportionate. The Arishok’s cock rested soft against his leg, only just now catching up the proceedings. Yes, she definitely would be able to enjoy herself regardless of his skill level for sure.

Once Hawke was bare she stood in front of the bed, smirking and completely relaxed. Her skin was heating up in anticipation and she preened as the Arishok’s eyes roamed over her body, taking everything in. If she hadn’t known him for quite some time now she would have missed the hint of approval in his expression.

“Sit,” he commanded, and Hawke obeyed, dropping down on the bed and leaning back on her arms to puff out her chest a little.

She watched as he kneeled down to get something out of a small box and then sat down before her, a small pot in one hand and a brush in the other.

“This vitaar is traditional before sharing pleasure unhurried and thorough. The paint is not poisonous to your kind.”

Hawke felt a spike of excitement in her stomach. So this was going to be more than a quick in and out? Good to know.

“Am I supposed to wear it too?”

“Yes. You do not know the patterns. Sit still so I may do it for you.”

Hawke slid closer to the Arishok, settling down between his knees and grinning. This was absolutely not something she had done before, but it was pretty hot to think of a lover doing something like that.

“Sure!”

The Arishok removed the lid off the pot and dipped the brush in. The first touch of wet paint against Hawke’s skin was cool and tickled slightly, but she held still as the Arishok started on his work.

Hawke stared up at him, still smirking and trying to catch the Arishok’s eye. He didn’t look at her face, instead focusing entirely on his task with slow methodical strokes. It was nearly ridiculous, here she was, naked in front of a naked man who had already voiced his intention in sleeping with her, but he wasn’t showing any reaction. He wasn’t even fully hard!

Each time the Arishok dipped the brush into the paint Hawke tried to catch his attention, stretching towards him or shifting her arms to press her breasts together or even wiggle into his lap.

“The more you move,” the Arishok said after a while, slightly exasperated. “The longer this will take.”

“I thought we were going to fuck? This is taking up time,” Hawke complained.

The Arishok paused for a moment, then shook his head.

“This is a custom of ours. We will not proceed without this.”

Hawke let out a sigh but stopped protesting after that.

Once Hawke stopped trying to hurry the process along it started to become enjoyable. The Arishok was focusing on her body with an intensity that made her flush, her shoulders were nearly entirely covered by the pattern, and then each of her hands was carefully cradled in his as he drew lines on her wrists. The soft caress of the brush made goose bumps appear on Hawke’s arms and though the Arishok wasn’t even really touching them the process of painting her breasts was one of the most erotic experiences she’d ever had.

When her torso and arms were done the Arishok pushed Hake down onto the bed, placing her legs in his lap and carefully drawing lines along her thighs and calves. Hawke had to bite back whimpers then, heat pooling in her belly and between her legs at the attention. Damn him, this really did work as foreplay.

When the paint pot was closed and the Arishok finally looked back at Hawke’s face she was barely keeping herself from squirming. The patterns he had drawn on her skin matched his exactly, which pleased her greatly.

“Now we may proceed,” he announced, and Hawke could have sworn that he was smirking at her reactions. He barely showed and sign of arousal, Blight take him. She would have to fix that.

“Yeah about that,” Hawke gasped out, watching as the Arishok placed his hands on either side of her hips. “Do you know what you’re doing? I really don’t mind guiding you along if you are willing to listen.”

“I am no tamassran,” the Arishok replied, whatever that was supposed to mean. “But I know what to do.”

“Of course you do, but have you ever done it with a human? I’m not exactly as uhm… big as some Qunari ladies.”

The Arishok’s expression was completely serene as he bowed his head, now only inches from Hawke’s body.

“I can see that. If it soothes your worries, I have done some research on the matter.”

Hawke was about to protest that statement when the Arishok leaned his face to her sex and met her eyes.

“Let me use my mouth.”

“Sure?” Hawke nodded, frowning in confusion.

Before she could spend any more moments doubting him, the Arishok bent down and set his mouth to her sex. Hawke let out a startled gasp, more from surprise than anything, but the Arishok was already working his tongue against her, no hesitation in his motions.

His hands wrapped around Hawke’s hips loosely, holding her down when she started to arch up and claw at the blankets uselessly. She had been right, he was methodical and direct in sex, but there was nothing cold about it. His face was as severe as ever as he kissed and licked and sucked, eyes snapping up to Hawke each time she let out a particularly loud cry or tried to buck out of his hold, clearly taking in what got the most reaction out of her.

“Fuck, fuck,” Hawke hissed as she felt the Arishok’s tongue flick against her clit and dip into her. Her hands reached down to find purchase, slipping against his horns uselessly.

She tried to rut against his face, feeling the sting of sharp claws as she tried to break the hold the Arishok had on her hips.

It caused him to pull his face away and stare at were red lines formed against Hawke’s skin, frowning.

“I can break your skin easily. I do not wish you harm, stop shifting so much.”

“Fuck that, I don’t care about scratches,” Hawke snapped, angry at the loss of his mouth. “If you want me to stop wiggling you have to stop being so good at this!”

He watched her for a few moments before making a noise of consideration and taking hold of her ankles.

“Place your legs here,” he instructed and bowed down again, this time letting Hawke rest her legs against the curve of his horns.

He set back to working on her with the same brutal efficiency as before, making Hawke throw her head back and scream. Surely somebody would hear, but honestly, she couldn’t care. After a few more moments of this the Arishok let go of her hip with one hand and pressed two fingers against her entrance.

For a second a small part of Hawke’s brain that wasn’t flooded with pleasure worried about the claws, but the Arishok seemed conscious of that. He was slow as he pushed his fingers into her, probing gently and shifting his head to suck at her clit as he worked them in at an excruciatingly slow pace.

It was enough to push Hawke over the edge, her legs locking up as she cried out through her orgasm. The grip on her tightened as she bucked up helplessly, the Arishok holding her still as she rode out the sensation.

When Hawke managed to open her eyes again she grinned down at him weakly, eyes flicking up to where her legs rested against his horns.

“So I guess a human _could_ sit on there, right?”

The Arishok’s eyes narrowed and he rose up enough to move closer to her and lie down at her side. His cheeks and ears seemed to be flushed, though it was hard to tell with silver skin and in the darkness. He was also finally half hard, which Hawke noted with some sense of glee.

“I’ll need to catch my breath,” she huffed out, rolling over to press her body against the Arishok’s and rest her head against his chest. “That was quite something, you’re good at this.”

The Arishok rumbled low in his chest, the sensation running clear through Hawke. They weren’t really cuddling, but their bodies were pressed together and it was comfortable. The tent wasn’t chilly, but the heat radiating off him was pleasant.

“Is there anything _you_ would like to do?” Hawke asked when she could form a proper thought again. Never let it be said that Marian Hawke was a selfish lover.

The Arishok thought for a few moments.

“Your kind kiss when sharing pleasure, do you not?”

Hawke glanced up at him, surprised.

“Yeah, that’s usually how it goes. But we don’t have to, if it’s some kind of taboo, I can enjoy myself well enough without it.”

“It is not a taboo. It is simply not something we do, but I am curious about the practice. If it is something you enjoy, I would like to experience it.”

Hawke stared at him for a few moments, then nodded and placed her hands on his jaw to tilt his face down. His lips were surprisingly soft and the Arishok leaned in but didn’t push further, letting her take the lead.

The kiss started out nearly chaste but grew heated quick. The Arishok’s hand came up to rest against Hawke’s hip as she licked against his mouth, moaning quietly. After only a few moments he pushed her back into the bed, deepening the kiss and groaning against her lips. They quickly started rutting against each other, Hawke wrapped her legs around his waist as much as she could and rubbed against his stomach, moaning shamelessly.

“You can fuck me, if you want,” she gasped out against his lips. “I came so hard I think I’ll be fine taking you, if you go slow.”

The Arishok groaned in acknowledgment and let go of her with one arm to pick up something next to his pillow. It was another small jar, and this time Hawke recognized the contents as oil. Quite considerate.

Hawke reached down to toy with herself as the Arishok quickly slicked up his cock and shifted them so they both lay on their sides. The cockhead nudging against her entrance was quite sizable, but definitely something Hawke could manage, so she shifted her hips to meet him halfway.

The Arishok slid into her easily enough, the stretch knocking the breath out of her lungs. He stilled less than halfway through, letting out a sharp breath. Hawke whimpered and clawed at his chest, waiting for more but he didn’t move as she adjusted to him, eyes shut. Only the way his hand dug into the skin at Hawke’s hip was an indication of how hard to tried to keep himself from moving.

Hawke forced herself to relax, moaning softly as she slowly rutted her hips and took him in more, inch by inch until their hips were flush together and the Arishok growled, a purr running through his body. 

“Damn,” Hawke moaned against his chest, half muffled. Sweat was beading on his skin and she ran her hands over his body. “That’s quite something. I think I’m ready.”

She didn’t need to tell him twice, and the Arishok’s hips snapped against her, punching a surprised cry from her lips. He finally lost that last bit of stoic composure, his face twisting in pleasure and his hands taking hold of Hawke’s hips as he started thrusting into her in earnest.

It was absolutely amazing. Her entire body was pressed up against him and the sensation of claws against her hip bone only served to spike Hawke’s pleasure. They were still on their sides, though the Arishok pushed her into the soft blankets. His hair slid over his shoulders, more and more strands dislodged by his thrusts and falling onto Hawke’s chest until she reached up to curl her hands into it and grab at it.

Out of habit Hawke leaned up and caught the Arishok’s mouth with her own, muffling her own cries against his lips. It really didn’t take much longer than that for her to come a second time. Throwing her head back and crying out with it she felt her orgasm wash over her, sharper than the first one, making her legs twitch and her toes curl.

The Arishok leaned his face away and bit down on Hawke’s shoulder instead, slightly sharpened teeth digging in hard though she really couldn’t care less at that moment. It felt like an eternity, her own pleasure mellowing out and the Arishok still biting across any part of her chest he could reach before she could feel him stiffen and find his release as well.

Hawke’s mind was a little hazy as the Arishok groaned and pulled out of her after a few moments. Instead of rolling away his hand reached between her legs, touching and rubbing as his teeth worried at Hawke’s neck, biting and licking over the marks he left. His hand was very nearly torture with how sensitive she was, her own hands wrapped around his biceps in a vice like grip, as she was unwilling to tell him to stop. It was all too much, but too good to want it to be over.

It eventually did end, with her third and final orgasm for the night and her limbs too wobbly to be of any use at all.

She lay on her back, catching her breath and hoping that the aftermath wouldn’t be too awkward. Hawke’s eyes were closed but she could hear the Arishok shift near her, getting up and stepping away before water sloshed and his steps returned. One of her hands was picked up and a warm cloth was run over her skin gently.

Hawke peeked up and watched as the Arishok washed off the paint and sweat off her, methodically working his way along her arms and then moving to her legs to take care of the evidence of their activities. His hair was dishevelled and there was a dark flush along his face and chest, though his expression had returned to a calm and measured one.

“You’re really good at this,” Hawke grinned after a few moments of watching him sleepily. “I was a bit worried I’d have to take care of myself here. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

The Arishok paused to look at her with narrowed eyes and slight disgust on his face.

“There is no point in seeking your pleasure with someone else if you do not care for theirs. You might make use of your own hand more efficiently. Is this how humans do it?”

“No, only some,” Hawke waved off, and the Arishok returned to his work.

After he cleaned her up he paused to look at the bite marks across her chest, frowning a little. The skin was broken in a few places, but it didn’t bother Hawke for now. Most of it was in places her clothes covered anyway, and the few that were a little higher up could still be concealed in decent company. 

“I did not intend to injure you. Human skin is more… delicate than I am used to. My apologies.”

Hawke snorted at the idea of anyone describing her as delicate. It wasn’t the first time she had marks like that, though usually more effort went into creating them.

“I don’t mind.”

He stared at her for a few moments more and then turned to wash off his own skin. He was much quicker than he had been with her, still as methodical and careful but clearly more familiar with his own body, or perhaps not as worried about breaking something.

When he was done Hawke fully expected for their business together to be done, and barely bit back her surprise when the Arishok lay down by her side and pulled a few thick blankets over them both, more so than she would have expected. Then again, Par Vollen was positively tropical from all she’d heard of it, so perhaps the cold bothered him more.

As if sensing her surprise the Arishok paused in his motions.

“I have been told that staying the night is not guaranteed among your kind, but is often appreciated. I do not mind you sleeping here.”

“Thanks, I suppose,” Hawke said and suppressed a grin when the Arishok shifted closer to her, still lying on his side and only a few inches away from her. She supposed he wouldn’t be able to sleep on a regular bed while lying on his back, what with his horns getting in the way. She shifted to face him, smiling brightly up at him.

“Was that as good for you as it was for me?”

“It was enjoyable,” the Arishok replied with no emotion in his voice. His eyes narrowed slightly as he looked down at her. “We can repeat this, if the need arises.”

Hawke squinted up at him to try and determine whether or not his nonchalance was meant to be a joke. She punched his chest playfully and he merely hummed in reply.

“Oh, _something_ will arise for sure.”

The Arishok huffed through his nose as a response.

After a few moments of simply basking in the afterglow Hawke scooted closer, deciding that since she had touched this man’s cock, she might as well start getting cozy. The Arishok shifted slightly as she pressed against his chest, but didn’t pull away. After a few moments of getting comfortable Hawke felt warm and content, curled up against a rock solid Qunari chest and feeling his chin brush against the top of her head.

“How would this normally go?” Hawke asked. “Among Qunari. I know you don’t really do lovers or anything like it, and I would guess that affairs are also out of the question-”

“We have tamassrans for this,” the Arishok said. “And it is unusual to visit the same tamassran too often, unless you are stationed somewhere more remote with fewer of them. You may seek pleasure with others, if there is no tamassran at all. My men may do this amongst themselves, but I cannot. There are none here who are not under my command.”

Hawke nodded, remembering how Isabela had spoken about losing respect if she were to sleep with any of her men. It probably wouldn’t do to bring such an imbalance into the matter, especially as the Arishok was the leader of the entire Qunari army. There likely wasn’t anyone close to him in rank, outside of Par Vollen.

“I’m fine because I’m an outside though?” Hawke guessed. “No worries about ordering me around.”

The Arishok made a noise that sounded like a snort.

“One would sooner succeed in telling the ocean to change the tides than expect you to listen to a command.”

There was a brief pause as he thought his next reply through.

“This is highly unusual, you must understand. You are worthy of respect, but you are still bas.”

The Arishok’s chest rumbled under Hawke’s palms as he laughed quietly.

“The only thing I could do that would be _more_ out of order is to share pleasure with a saarebas. I would sooner cut off my horns than risk the madness _that_ would surely bring.”

Hawke was quite proud of herself for not bursting out into hysterical laughter then and there. 

*

The Arishok drifted off to sleep quickly and without moving at all, behaving just as any soldier Hawke had ever known. It took some effort on her part to follow his example, between brief bursts of panic and the need to laugh hysterically at the situation she had found herself in. 

At some point the Arishok’s arm wrapped around her waist and Hawke felt strangely comforted by the weight. Instead of making her feel trapped it provided just the grounding she needed to fall asleep as well.

The Arishok rose from sleep before the sun, with the sky still a pale yellow and grey. Hawke usually didn’t get to see that unless she had spent the night awake, but the slightest shift from him woke her as well. They were quiet as they got dressed, though it wasn’t awkward.

There were duties for the Arishok to perform, and Hawke supposed she better return home as well, so she bid her farewell and left the compound, trying very hard not to make eye contact with at anyone at all. A few converted Elves threw her dirty looks but otherwise nobody seemed to pay her much mind as she walked towards the gate, her legs feeling weak and her entire body feeling tender to the point of nearly being painful.

All in all, a successful night, and the Qunari at the gate barely even sneered for once. She could very much see herself doing this again.

 

*

 

Anders slept lightly and whenever he could catch a break. Between running around with a crew of mismatched individuals and dealing with other people’s problems, hiding from Templars, and helping heal the poor, his sleep schedule consisted of: whenever he wanted and when there was nobody there to bother him.

He could wake at any disturbance, but the crash that startled him awake that morning sounded like an ungraceful druffalo was dancing in a pottery shop. 

Scrambling for his staff Anders only relaxed when his bleary eyes found Hawke standing before him, her own weapons securely packed away, no sign of attack going on. A few jars he’d placed near the door were still rolling, kicked over by Hawke throwing open the door to his clinic too fast. That explained the noise at least. 

“Hawke? What happened?”

“I need your medical help.”

Anders immediately got up, worried now. He watched as Hawke moved over to sit down gingerly on his cot. Her clothes were in order and her hair was only as dishevelled as it always was, so she surely couldn’t have gotten into a fight. Some illness then?

Hawke slowly started to take off her vest and unlacing the top part of her shirt as Anders went to wash his hands. He averted his eyes out of habit.

“I need you to heal up a few erm… marks so I don’t worry mother. And also something for pain. Nothing as drastic as a healing potion, just something to take off the edge of some… hm. Internal things.”

“Internal? Hawke, what did you do?” Anders asked sharply, now worried again.

He grabbed some slow-working elfroot potions and mild salves and moved back towards Hawke. There were bite marks on her skin, big and from something with sharp teeth.

“Did you fight some sort of dog abomination in the sewers? Hawke, what is this?”

She ignored him in favour of reaching for the potion, downing it and sighing deeply. Anders frowned at her but set out to channel magic into the injuries. They were shallow and neat, barely more than bruised skin and barely took any effort to conceal.

“Also I find myself in need of more discreet medicine to deal with _lady’s problems_. It wasn’t an issue since I arrived in Kirkwall, but now...”

They stared at each other for a few seconds before Hawke rolled her eyes.

“The Sister’s Grace, Anders.”

He felt his cheeks heat up and sharply reminded himself to be a doctor first and a friend second. He did have some of the potion in question; it was frequently asked for by Ferelden refugees who weren’t sure where to get the ingredients yet. Women of all backgrounds and ages used it whenever they wished to ensure the lack of pregnancies, and without the familiar sources for its ingredients they turned to whoever might instead. 

“Hawke, as a doctor I will help you. But I do have to ask, as a friend, did whoever you do that with… eh. Do this. To you?”

Now that Hawke had opened her shirt further to allow herself to be healed he could see that there were scratch marks on her as well, quickly sealing up under his magic.

Hawke took the small pouch of herbs from him and sniffed at them before tucking them into her pocket. She shrugged with a grin and started lacing her shirt back up.

“To be fair it was an accident but yes, and I assure you, it was absolutely worth it. And he’ll be more careful next time, now that he knows.”

Anders desperately tried not to think too hard of what kind of man could have bruised up Hawke like that, as it surely wasn’t someone human judging by the bite size. Probably not an Elf either.

As if noticing his brief panic Hawke laughed and dug out some coin to hand to Anders.

“Here. It’s not much but it should compensate you for the herbs. Oh and…”

She winked and put a finger to her lips, then turned on her heel and sauntered out with the smug gait of somebody who had been well and truly fucked.

Anders rubbed his face with his hands, sighing and desperately trying to will his mind from going places and trying to figure out who or what Hawke had done. He really felt like not knowing would do wonders for his peace of mind.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> here there be (dead) dragons

If somebody had told Hawke that she would find a stable relationship in Kirkwall as she was running away from a horde of Darkspawn, she would have laughed in that person’s face. Never in her life did she have something that was so enduring, yet at the same time undefinable as a proper relationship. If she took a liking to somebody, it was always with the understanding that whatever they had was in good fun and nothing as grand as true love.

If that somebody told her that the relationship would stretch on for years and would be with the leader of a hostile Qunari force camped out indefinitely in her city… Well, Hawke wouldn’t have believed it either, but she would have agreed that it was the level of foolishness expected of her.

She was keenly aware of what type of outrage it might earn her to let the public know, with how anxious everyone was about the Qunari already. She didn’t mention this in her letters to Carver, who would surely power walk his way back to Kirkwall just to yell at her. Her mother deserved some peace of mind after the burdens she’d taking on in the last few years, so Hawke spared her the knowledge as well.

But the idea of scandalising people really wasn’t on her mind at all when she visited the Arishok, for business or for pleasure. Hawke genuinely enjoyed his company when they merely talked philosophy for a few hours each week, and when she was served tea and fruit. She tried to annoy the Arishok way less now, and he seemed more interested in hearing about _bas_ society from her perspective than about lecturing her on how horrible every aspect of it was.

The sex had started out as a very rare occasion, one that Hawke looked forward to whenever she got to. However, it only took a few months for it to become a weekly occurrence if there was time.

The Arishok quickly learned just how much pressure Hawke’s skin could take under his claws and teeth, unless she explicitly demanded that he mark her. Hawke learned how to break his composure more easily and that the Arishok’s preferences weren’t very different from those of human men.

Things became more spontaneous too; Hawke became the one to initiate things about as often as the Arishok sent a message to her, and occasionally philosophy was replaced by Hawke demonstrating just how skilled her tongue could be when she wasn’t making quips.

“Your men really don’t mind that I’m taking up your time so often?” Hawke asked one day, stretched out on the Arishok’s chest and toying with a strand of his hair. It was one of her favourite positions. 

He was lying on his back, cushions raising up his head enough for the horns to rest along the bedding comfortably. His eyes were closed as if he was dozing, but by now Hawke could also tell the difference between the different expressions he wore when he was at ease and relaxing around her.

“They would not question me.”

“But some of them might feel like there’s other things that you should be doing. When you’re not doing _me_ , that is.”

The Arishok briefly cracked an eye open to squint at her, before huffing.

“This city provides me with nothing. I can send out patrols and have others do what is required. My time is not as highly demanded as you might think.”

Hawke grinned and nudged her head under his chin to make herself more comfortable. He was incredibly warm, and despite how solid his body was, surprisingly nice to rest on.

“In that case, I’m glad I get to demand all that time.”

None of the Qunari in the compound said anything at all in Hawke’s presence, the most attention paid to her being curious glances. Either they didn’t mind, or they didn’t speak enough common to challenge her directly.

Her own friends were a different matter.

Fenris would often give her that particular _look_ when she returned from the compound, not disapproving but certainly not hiding that he thought her affair was a dumb idea. She had his hesitant support, Hawke supposed, but Fenris for sure was aware of how much could go wrong in having an affair with a Qunari.

Whether or not Anders had pieced together that Hawke was sleeping with the Arishok, she wasn’t sure, but he clearly didn’t think it was a good idea. He had since taught her how to make her own Sisters Grace from what was available in Kirkwall and continued to help her hide the knowledge from her mother. Her little affair clearly worried him, but other than asking about her wellbeing, he minded his own business.

Aveline quickly figured out that Hawke’s visits to the Qunari compound were more than just attempts at keeping smooth relations with a hostile force. She had confronted Hawke about this during one of her visits to her office, but after reminding Hawke to be careful and not do anything stupid to put the city at risk [again] she had also demanded that Hawke not go into any detail whatsoever. For her own peace of mind, she didn’t want to know any more than she already did.

Isabela probably had her suspicions, but Hawke resolutely didn’t give anything away when she was nearby. Of all her friends Isabela would latch onto this personal matter and never let Hawke live it down.

Merrill, bless her, remained blissfully unaware.

It was easy to keep things from her household, for the most part. Hawke often came and went at odd hours due to the life she led. Still, sometimes Hawke would stay at the Qunari compound later than usual, leaving her with no choice but to enter her home in the middle of the night as stealthily as an Antivan Crow.

Climbing into her room through the window seemed so awfully juvenile, and risked Lupe barking excitedly and waking the entire household

It just so happened that the one time Hawke accidentally stepped on a creaky part of the stairs, Bodhan was awake and greeted her with such an enthusiastic, “WELCOME HOME, MESSERE, I TRUST YOU HAD A PLEASANT EVENING” that Hawke startled and woke up her mother. It had taken some truly marvellous fibbing for Hawke to convince Leandra that she had been in a late meeting with the city guard. That she managed to keep a straight face was a miracle, considering she had been astride a man’s face not an hour before.

And then there was, of course, the realization that Qunari were rather relaxed about the matters of sex as a society. They weren’t as prude about not doing anything more than have children, and from occasional tales Hawke could tell that they were even experimental at times.

“I doubt you know of this item,” the Arishok lamented, after he finished his brief description of a Qunari device. “Only tamassrans are trained in its use.”

Hawke had just smiled and decided that their sort-of-anniversary was coming up anyway.

Now she was visiting Aveline after a quick trip to the Blooming Rose, her purse lighter and her haggling skills severely tested. It had been the most obvious place to look, other than asking Isabela for a favour, and then Hawke had to insist on receiving exactly the product she was hoping for, specially made and brand new. It was worth every coin, though the workers at the Rose had been rather exasperated at the long list of specific measurement she had insisted on.

Her prize was wrapped in soft cloth: smooth leather over a hard rod, just as she had once owned in Lothering, albeit quite a bit larger. Hawke hadn’t really had the need for a strap on ever since she’d arrived in Kirkwall, with such a hectic schedule, and other activities taking less effort usually. But if the Arishok dared to challenge her skills indirectly? Well.

Hawke moved past the guards between her and her goal with ease, grinning and greeting each by name, recognizing even those in helmets. As Aveline’s friend she was around often enough by now, and most at least twitched their lips in return.

She was nearly at the door leading down into the guards’ section of the viscount’s palace when a voice from nearby called her name.

“Ser Hawke, may I have a word with you, please?”

Hawke glanced over her shoulder and tried to suppress an eye roll as she saw Seneschal Bran walking towards her. He looked as coolly polite as ever, though she could tell by the slight flare of his nostrils that he was more displeased with things than usual. Putting on her perfectly polite and very much fake smile Hawke turned towards him.

“Bran! What can I help you with?”

He gently placed his hand near her elbow to usher her away from the door, bowing just enough that the gesture was only barely noticeable.

“You are already doing so very much for this city, Ser Hawke. Without your invaluable… flavour of diplomacy Kirkwall’s delicate balance with the Qunari would barely be where it is now.”

They stood just a little away from the other people mingling in the keep now, not far enough away for people to take special interest but definitely out of earshot. At least Bran was cutting to the chase quickly, judging by the strained tone of his voice.

“And I assume there is yet more Qunari trouble for me to take care of?” Hawke asked. “Has another merchant been terrified by one of their soldiers staring at him for too long?”

“Oh nothing like that,” Bran reassured her, now looking slightly pained as he leaned closer. “I do have a small warning for you. As a friend. There are some unfortunate rumours that might arise from your… helpfulness.”

Hawke smiled sweetly and kept her posture relaxed, not feeling like playing into whatever courtly secrecy was going on here.

“Oh? How so? Am I helping Kirkwall too much now?”

“Of course not. However, you have been seen entering the Qunari compound often. I understand, it is important to keep up civil relations with these beasts. But you must understand, people might worry, and rumours might arise.”

Hawke fought to keep her face neutral. The seneschal wouldn’t appreciate her laughing in his face.

“Rumours? I don’t understand,” she gasped in mock innocence.

Bran frowned in annoyance.

“If you spend too much time with these people, there might be question. What if one of our city’s very own heroes entertains the idea of entering the Qun? What would our citizens think then?”

The toy in her bag felt extremely heavy at that moment and Hawke couldn’t help but grin.

“Don’t worry, Bran. I’m certainly not _entering the Qun_ in any way that would cause concern.”

With that she bowed briefly and turned on her heel, leaving Bran by himself and walking away quickly before he could stop her. Let him stew on that one all he liked.

 

*

 

Needless to say, her gift of acquiring and using a _Saartoh Nehrappan_ was met with disbelief and gratitude, along with a quiet request to do it again some time.

 

*

Hawke breathed heavily as she leaned on her staff, staring at the gargantuan carcass in front of her. Her hands slipped on the dragon blood on the handle, sticky from when she had resorted to hacking and slashing and dagonlings that came too close for comfort. Next to her Anders was rubbing soot off his face with shaking hands, exhaustion clear on his features while Varric and Fenris started to approach the dragon they had -somehow- slain.

“Wager the scales and bones of that thing will fetch us a neat price if I put a good word in with the right people,” Varric said, letting out an impressed whistle as he cautiously touched the dead dragon’s flank.

“And lots of souvenirs to go round,” Hawke grinned and reached for the waterskin at her belt. Her hands felt weak with mana exhaustion, but the thrill of having just slain a _high dragon_ was more than enough to keep her on her feet. She would probably ride that wave until midnight and crash the second she sat down.

Battling the dragon had been like facing a storm, like standing before an avalanche and _conquering_ the force of chaotic nature itself.

Her friends started discussing what exactly to do with the dragon, what to keep and what to sell, and what sort of weapons one could make of it. Varric joked about how they should just gift part of its hide to anyone they wanted to be indebted forever, and while Hawke laughed along with him, it also made her pause in consideration.

She remembered the Arishok speaking of dragons once, as they exchanged legends of various beasts and discussed what kinds of creatures they had seen or heard of. Dragons, he had explained, were regarded highly in Qunari society. Not worshipped, but most young soldiers seemed to have a dream of conquering something so mighty.

While he had not shown any indication of wanting to join in on such flights of fancy, Hawke did see the way his eyes shone when he told her of the glorious ones.

“The hide would make a fine armour, would it not?”

Hawke placed a hand on the scales at the bloodied maw of the dragon. She could still feel it buzzing with energy.

“You want a set of dragon armour, chuckles?” Varric asked.

“Not me, no. Would clash terribly with my hair. But I know someone who would.”

 

*

 

The Qunari at the gates looked more tense than usual at the sight of Hawke approaching them with a large parcel slung over her shoulder, but did not stop her. They must have figured that there was nothing dangerous to them she could carry so casually.

It wasn’t one of the usual days they met, but the Arishok greeted Hawke without questioning her presence, though his eyes did linger on the heavy bag she set down.

“I have just returned from the Bone Pit and I’m ready for another!” Hawke declared with a smirk, winking and grinning wider at the Arishok’s unimpressed face. “Get it? _Bone_?”

“You have come with a purpose,” the Arishok observed, pointedly ignoring her innuendo.

Hawke grinned at him and sat down at one of the cushion seats by the small table. He poured her tea and waited for her to speak, by now used to Hawke getting to the point soon enough and apparently in the mood to humour her.

“I went to investigate some trouble at a nearby mine yesterday,” she started. “A high dragon wrecking havoc. Terrible business, that.”

The Arishok nodded.

“I have been informed of sightings of a dragon just out of bounds of the city’s territory.”

“And you never thought to tell anyone?”

“It was of no relevance to my talks with the bas.”

Hawke let out a laugh but went on.

“Well, lets just say that dragon is no longer a problem.”

At that the Arishok’s attention shifted to her fully, eyes fixed on her face.

“You have slain a dragon?”

Hawke took a sip of the tea, enjoying the way he focused on her like this, pleased that she had caught him off guard like that.

“Not all by myself of course. But yes, if you must know, my blade was thoroughly caked in dragon’s blood and required quite a lot of care. It was… glorious.”

Hawke pulled the parcel she had carried closer, carefully placing it in front of the Arishok. She undid the cord holding the cloth wrapped together, and felt a brief flicker of self consciousness as she started opening it up.

“I know you have more important things to be doing than chasing dragons for some helpless mine owners. But I did feel like this would be a gift befitting the leader of the Qunari.”

The Arishok stared at her intently until Hawke finally unwrapped her offerings fully, and only then looked down to take in what she had brought. Purple-black scales glinted in the light of the lamps, revealing carefully prepared hide and bone. It was more than Varric had thought was strictly necessary, but very adequate for a man such as the Arishok, according to Fenris.

“A gift for you, Arishok,” Hawke said, her voice a little more serious than before, though she was proud of keeping her hesitation out of it. “I would have preferred to gift you a set of armour, but I doubt there is anyone in Kirkwall who could craft something fit for a Qunari. I hope you have a way of finding someone to fashion you a set to suit your needs out of this.”

Reaching out carefully the Arishok lifted the hide and inspected it, turning it in the light and testing the weight. Then his eyes moved to a few bones, carefully wrapped in more cloth.

“And these could probably serve as reinforced bits of armour, or to create weapons,” Hawke went on as the Arishok remained silent. “All of this is really for you to do with as you please.”

“And this?”

The Arishok finally broke the silence, his voice a low growl as he picked up a piece from the small pile of bones. It was a dragon’s tooth, Hawke noticed, dark and sharp as any blade.

“That… frankly, I went a little overboard here. I don’t know what you might like making out of dragon things, so I wanted to bring as much variety as possible. Probably not the best thing to do, to bring somebody a gift for them to assemble themselves, but here you go. You might use it as decoration. I’m not really sure what one even does with a dragon’s tooth.”

The Arishok’s eyes were nearly unnerving at that point, and Hawke wasn’t sure what to make of his expression. He seemed… pleased? Maybe? The gift at the very least didn’t seem to have offended him in one way or another. Finally he broke his stare and placed everything back in order.

“I thank you for this gift. I will honour it, Kadan.”

 

*

 

Hawke was getting ready for bed when Bodhan informed her that a small parcel had been left as a gift for her, though he couldn’t say who it was from.

After bidding him good night Hawke examined the small item in her hands, with the paper bearing no note and being fairly nondescript other than carrying the faint scent of tea. When she unwrapped it she found a pendant on a simple cord. It took her a few moments of tracing her fingers over the material set in metal before realizing that it was a fragment of a dragon’s tooth.

 

*

 

The next time she found herself stretched out on the Arishok’s bed, wiggling out of her clothes as he undid the laces of her shirt, he paused. Hawke could feel his eyes on her chest, where the dragon tooth pendant lay between her breasts, then a hand covering it, claws on her skin and a low growl before he leaned over her and bit at the skin above her heart.

It was one of the most pleasant reasons Hawke had ever worn bite marks before.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the one and only Serious(tm) chapter

It was one of the rarer occasions on which Hawke had arrived quite early in the evening. She now lay sated after a round of rather spectacular sex; it was too early to leave, but not quite early enough to sleep over. She realised that it had also become rare for her not to sleep at the compound.

The Arishok was lying on his back, a cushion propping up his head so his horns curved over the edge of the bed comfortably, with Hawke using the wide expanse of his solid chest as a pillow. His hand rested on her bare shoulder, claws occasionally shifting in what felt like an unconscious caress as Hawke idly toyed with a strand of his long hair.

He had been in a sour mood when Hawke had arrived, though none of that had been directed at her. Even now there was tension in his body, persistent even as the Arishok had noticeably relaxed after a round of lazy tumbling.

As he hadn’t mentioned anything amiss to Hawke she didn’t feel like it was her business to ask him about it. But this was what people did, right? Have mind-blowingly good sex and then talk about problems and offer comfort in the afterglow? At least that’s what Hawke assumed people did in relationships. And whatever the thing between her and the Arishok could be called, it was the longest and steadiest thing she’d had with one specific man.

“You seem dour,” she offered after a while, drawing a line over the Arishok’s chest with her finger. “Something troubling you?”

“Nothing that you could assist with,” the Arishok replied immediately. But after a few minutes the Arishok must have gained at least a speck of consideration for human etiquette, and continued.

“I am in this ulcer on a city because the Qun demands it. Yet I am no closer than before to fulfilling the task than I was when our ship first arrived. Until I have done what is demanded, I cannot return to Par Vollen. None of us can leave this wretched mire.”

Hawke hummed in understanding. It was no secret that the Arishok detested damn near everything about Kirkwall. She could understand, of course, and none of the things that endeared the city to her mattered to the Arishok at all. It wasn’t the first time that the Arishok spoken of his disdain for Kirkwall, or voiced his opinions about one he considered to be as honourable as Hawke staying.

Perhaps that made it worse. She _could_ leave, if she had anywhere to go. He was stuck, even with a home still intact to return to.

“You have never told me what it is the Qun demands. I’m quite adept at solving problems, you know? Maybe I can help you with this as well.”

To her mild surprise he began speaking.

“I was to bring a relic of my people back to Par Vollen. It was taken by a thief and in my pursuit both our ships were damaged heavily, stranding us in this city. The Tome of Koslun is sacred to Qunari, a relic beyond value. I cannot leave until I have it. So no, this is not something you can solve with a silver tongue and steady blade, skilful though you may be with both.” 

“That must be one special book if you’re sticking around this city for years,” Hawke observed and felt the Arishok’s rumbling joyless laugh.

He didn’t speak more of it after that, eyes closed and either meditating or dozing, but Hawke stayed where she was. Something about the word _relic_ had sparked a memory that made her uneasy. Part of her wanted to run to confirm her suspicion about someone else who was searching for a priceless _relic_ as well, someone who had arrived in Kirkwall around the same time as the Qunari… but she was reluctant to leave her spot. The Arishok’s hands were a heavy weight of reassurance on her, his familiar heartbeat right under her palms, and she was unwilling to shake either.

Fleeing the Blight and losing everything, dealing with all sorts of blows of fate from all sides had thoroughly knocked planning for the future from Hawke’s head. She lived in the moment and took what she could get her hands on, not letting go of the fortune she gathered, friendships and allies and security for her mother and what remained of her family. Given that her current paramour was very much not someone she could just bring home, Hawke hadn’t truly thought ahead into the future of their affair.

And somehow now had turned out to be just the moment.

Of course she had known that the Arishok would eventually pack up and leave with his men. It would solve many of the current tensions within Kirkwall, and Hawke’s personal problems that sprang from trying to keep peace. But she hadn’t considered _him_ going.

Hearing him speak, Hawke absolutely couldn’t begrudge him the desire to return to a home that still stood and would welcome him if he did his duty. But now she had the nagging feeling that their parting might be a little less gentle than a firm handshake and polite goodbyes.

She found no rest in his bed that day, though if the Arishok noticed her dampened mood, he did not comment on it when they parted. He merely refrained from his customary huff when Hawke kissed him on the cheek with a flourish, as she often did to tease him.

Walking towards Lowtown was unusually quiet that night, much to Hawke’s chagrin. She was itching for a fight, but as it was, she reached the Hanged Man with no incidents at all.

It was still kind of early for the establishment, and most patrons were getting quietly drunk. Nobody paid attention to Hawke as she marched inside and made a quick line upstairs. It was Varric’s domain up there, nobody besides tavern patrons or Varric’s guests lurked around much.

Hawke found Isabela in her usual room, stretched out on her bed and seemingly napping. She cracked open an eye when she spotted Hawke, but remained relaxed. It was long past since Isabela had shifted into positions that were deceptively calm around Hawke.

“Everything alright?”

“Cut the crap, Isabela, where is the book?”

Caught off guard Isabela’s expression slipped into one of mild surprise. She opened her mouth, no doubt to deflect or feign ignorance. Hawke’s expression made her sigh and sit up finally.

“How in _Thedas_ could you know about the book?”

“Oh, a little birdy with a truly massive set of horns told me.”

Now Hawke spotted real fear on Isabela’s face, her eyes darting around and to the door, as if she was expecting Qunari to storm her room.

“Does the Arishok know?”

“No of course not, I wouldn’t sell you out just like that,” Hawke snapped back, pacing the room. “Damn it, Isabela, are _you_ really responsible for them being here? They could have left this whole time?”

She watched the pirate stick out her chin in defiance.

“I wasn’t exactly planning on both our ships getting stranded here! And before you ask, no, I won’t return it for them to fuck off. I don’t have it anyway.”

Hawke ran her hands through her hair, groaning. Of course. But what was she supposed to do, sit around and watch as the Arishok slowly edged towards the end of his patience? Until he snapped? She felt the frustration of being in Kirkwall grow in her chest sometimes, but she at least had things she loved about the place. Family. Friends. A home she built for better or worse.

She sat down at the edge of the bed, shoulders slumped and Isabela sighed, cautiously reaching out to rub her arm.

“Trust me, if I had the blighted tome I would have run as far away from the Qunari as I can,” Isabela said, and Hawke felt like she could detect a hint of fear in her friend.

She placed her hand over Isabela’s, shaking her head.

“What am I supposed to do? I can’t just let this go on. Tensions are alright high. And I’m _definitely_ not handing you over, so you don’t need to worry about-”

“At this point I’m worried about _you_ , kitten,” Isabela offered hesitantly. “You seem way more distraught about this than I thought. Is it really getting that bad with the Qunari?”

“The Arishok’s patience is running thin. This city is draining him and yeah I guess he’s seen worse, but I can tell he’s nearing the end of his patience. I’m surprised he hasn’t blown up like a barrel of his precious Gatlok.”

He was more gruff than before: an angry glare directed towards the gates beyond the city, a growl after having to speak to humans, disgust on his face when anything to do with the viscount was brought up by Hawke. At this point she felt that anyone else would have suffered his rage for bringing things to his attention, and only the Arishok’s respect for her kept him from turning his frustrations towards her, despite being human.

Isabela stared at her with a strange expression for a few moments, shoulders tense.

“Hawke. It… wasn’t just tea and philosophy all those years, was it?”

For a few seconds Hawke tried to understand what Isabela meant by that, blinking up at her. Then it occurred to her that ever since the very first time their little crew had to deal with the Qunari, Isabela had excused herself. She liked the gossip and listened to what others told her, but she kept well away from the compound. She had never really been there to see Hawke talk to the Arishok. She was the only one who didn’t tease her or show disapproval, and really, hadn’t Hawke avoided discussing the Arishok with anyone? Even Merril had given up on gently prodding her for information on the great romance.

“No, lets say we... improved diplomatic relations on a level the Viscount wouldn’t approve of,” Hawke replied, resigned and slumping back until she was lying across Isabela’s bed. “Guess that puts me in a tricky position in trying to solve _this_ situation. My friend, my city, or my- Maker, whatever he is!”

The pirate’s face came into view then, and Hawke was surprised to see genuine sadness in her expression.

“Kitten, I know how people act around a really good fuckbuddy. But you’ve got actual feelings for him, don’t you?”

Hawke opened her mouth to protest or crack a joke, but snapped it shut immediately. She had respected the Arishok since their first meeting, even if she refused to show it in the way it was proper. She had been fond of him for a long time as well, and had enjoyed being in his company. So did she?

“I… guess I do,” she let out with a laugh and threw her arms up in the air. “It’s not like I don’t have enough problems already.”

The weight of the dragon’s tooth against her chest, hidden away under her clothes, felt too heavy in that moment. It was the only gift he’d even given her that could be carried around, and one that had no practical use at all.

Isabela sighed and shook her head.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

Hawke glanced up at her quietly, then sat up.

“Well, I suppose we’ll just have to solve this entire mess,” she said, clapping her hands and waving them theatrically at the door. “Go get Aveline, we’ll fix this.”

Isabela bristled.

“Why Aveline?”

“Because I have the first seed of a plan and I’ll need both of you to work together for it to work. She won’t do anything to you about stealing, don’t worry, I’ll make sure of it.”

“But why me? We’re not exactly on good terms.” 

“Because you _so_ owe me for this mess we’re in.”

For a few seconds Isabela looked like she was about to protest going to the Captain of the city guard to explain the situation, until she finally relented with a crooked smile.

“Don’t tell anyone that I’m helping you in your grand forbidden romance,” she said with a gentle shove to Hawke’s shoulder.

At that moment Hawke felt quite a bit too relieved to protest. 

 

*

 

Things, Hawke decided somewhere between trying to catch some sleep and trying to drink to avoid dreams, were happening too quickly and in an annoyingly large quantity

The city had been metaphorically on fire for a while, with the inhabitants doing their best to throw Qunari _gaatlok_ into the fire while she wasn’t looking. Aveline and Isabela had been at each other’s throats while working surprisingly well together, promising Hawke that soon enough they’d have the tome and also somebody guilty to put the entire blame on. 

Then a necromancer had murdered her mother.

And before Hawke even had time to grieve properly, things escalated and now Kirkwall was quite _literally_ engulfed in flames. Not to mention that Aveline’s guards and the blighted city law had clashed with the Arishok’s views on his converted elves, leading to Hawke’s hasty retreat from the compound, spears at her heels.

Hawke felt nothing but a strange numbness in her body as she fought her way through Qunari, ignoring the signs of destruction and injured, dead, and dying on her way to the Keep. She fought Qunari she might have known, shared supper with, sparred with, but battle paint and darkness made it hard to see, the cold calculated fury in which she performed her attacks barely leaving room to pay attention anyway.

Nothing but reaching the Keep and putting a stop to this mattered anyway. She could reason with the Arishok, perhaps, bargain or promise to find him the tome after all, if he only stopped. What was he going to do anyway? Sure, he could seize the city, and perhaps hold it for a while, with the brutal efficiency and the unexpectedness of his attack, for all that everyone always feared it. But the Qun had not use for Kirkwall. And unless he received back up – something Hawke knew was unlikely – he would eventually be forced out of the city by the surrounding Free Marcher kingdoms. And then what would all of this have been for?

The steps to the viscount’s keep stretched up before her, all that stood between her and facing the Arishok. Flaking blood sullied the staff under Hawke’s hand, wood creaking. She wasn’t sure if avoiding the Arishok’s wrath and a fight was possible in her future at all. She needed to put an end to things, but Isabela was nowhere to be found, no doubt scared out of her mind and ready to flee, just as Aveline had informed her that the guards would bring her a thief to hand to the Arishok.

Without either near, Hawke could do nothing but take a step forward and up, gritting her teeth against the inevitable.

Fenris briefly clapped her on the shoulder in reassurance, but otherwise there was nothing to do but walk, their weapons sheathed in a small attempt at showing good faith. Screams and the Arishok’s booming voice carrying through the halls dashed any hopes of things de-escalating, even before Hawke saw the head of the viscount and a dead noble on the ground.

She barely registered what anyone was saying or his speech, feeling nothing but a pang of pain as she saw the Arishok still wearing a pendant made from her gift of dragon remains.

This, Hawke realized with a wave of resignation, could not end well whatever else happened now. Perhaps there would be a fight, perhaps she would have to face the Arishok in battle, until either or both of them were dead. Even if she somehow managed to talk her way out of the situation there simply was no way the Arishok would be left to his own devices anymore. Not with the viscount’s body dead on the ground.

The clang of doors behind her startled Hawke out of her numbness. The Arishok stood right in front of her with his expression unreadable and his pale eyes fixed on hers. For a few moments he held the gaze, before looking up over her head and Hawke turned to see what had caused the new wave of commotion.

Never in her life had she been so glad to see Aveline being all about the guard business, frogmarching a dizzy looking man who could barely keep on his feet. He was bloodied and had obviously received a strong blow to the head. Aveline walked with purpose, dragging the half unconscious man, followed by Isabella who strode with the confidence of a powerful captain, though Hawke noticed how she resolutely wasn’t looking at the Qunari around them.

“I apologize for the delay,” Aveline said with a nod. “This man has proven quite difficult to keep in one place.”

“What is this,” the Arishok asked with a sneer, eyes darting to Hawke again when she glanced over her shoulder.

“May I present to you,” Isabela said with a flourish, gesturing at the man in Aveline’s grip. “The man responsible for your troubles. Castillon, Antivian merchant, slaver, and most recently, the thief who caused your precious book to disappear.”

She stepped closer, revealing that she had a massive tome under her arm, which she presented with another bow and a smirk towards the Arishok. It was ancient, Hawke noticed, bound in beautiful leather and big enough to still look like a heavy piece of literature in the Arishok’s hands when he accepted it. With his focus on examining the tome Isabela quickly raised her eyebrows at Hawke, who nodded curtly.

“See, honourable Arishok,” Hawke drawled, turning back to him with a smile she didn’t feel. “There really was no need for this business here. I am quite good at solving other people’s problems, if you recall me mentioning, and I have delivered the tome and the thief. I do apologize for the delay, but my companions had quite a lot of trouble getting here through a ransacked city, I assume.”

The Arishok looked at her sharply, his eyes flicking up to Castillon and then to Isabela, who resolutely didn’t squirm under his scrutiny. Then he looked back Hawke. Briefly she wondered if he would easily see through her attempt to shield her friend. True, Castillon _had_ been responsible for what had happened by giving the order, but Hawke wasn’t sure whether the Arishok would accept this.

Finally the Arishok nodded at one of the Qunari next to him, carefully placing the tome in his hands.

“I thank you, basalit-an,” the Arishok said, inclining his head towards Hawke.

And just like that it was over. A bark to his men and the Qunari stationed around the hall moved towards the exit in orderly rows, leaving behind terrified and confused nobles, who twitched away from the massive warriors. The Qunari did not spare them a glance. 

“With this, my duty has been met and we can return to Par Vollen,” the Arishok said. “Hand us the thief, and we shall never return here.”

The Arishok’s eyes slid over Isabela one last time as Aveline shoved Castillon at one of the Qunari, and he was dragged away without much protest. Isabela and Aveline must have been quite convincing when capturing him, then.

Hawke watched numbly as the Qunari left and a cheer erupted around her. She was vaguely aware of nobles that barely gave her the time of day on normal occasions proclaim her a hero, and everyone looked much more relieved than she felt. Knight Commander Meredith arrived eventually, looking a bit at a loss as the hostile force she had expected to fight moved away without so much as a threatening word.

Varric only shrugged helplessly as Hawke threw him a pleading look. There wasn’t much he could do as she was proclaimed Champion of Kirkwall and everyone was deciding that this needed celebration. All she wanted to do was to go home, curl up with Lupe, and get drunk enough not to think of the garbage fire her life had become, just for a little while.

“Do I really have to go through this,” she hissed at Varric as everyone around her blessed her name and thanked the Maker for sending Hawke when he did. As if the Maker had anything to do with this.

“I don’t think you have any choice here,” Varric said with a convincing smile on his face. He tried to accept praise and thanks on Hawke’s behalf as much as he could so she could have a break of it all, but it only did so much. “Just enjoy your new status as much as you can.”

Drinks were passed around but Hawke barely sipped any that found themselves in her hands, sure that being drunk in public would just lead to her forgetting her manners.

Eventually the dawn threatened to arrive, and Fenris and Isabela managed to drag Hawke away from the celebrations of having survived a minor invasion. Both of them stayed at her side as they walked her back to her home, shielding her from the world outside and quietly keeping her company.

“I’m so sorry, kitten,” Isabela said as they reached Hawke’s home, but other than that neither tried to speak much. It was kinder, Hawke figured, not to hear platitudes just now.

The sun was peeking up over the buildings and the staff of the manor were quite worried for Hawke, but she ignored them and sent everyone back to bed with a weak smile.

It was too quiet though, and Hawke couldn’t bring herself to sleep or drink as she had planned. There really was nothing she could be doing to relieve the numb pain in her chest, and walking past her mother’s room had just sharpened the grief Hawke could feel looming against her neck. Soon it would hit, and all she could do was brace herself against it.

The dragon tooth hanging around her neck pressed against Hawke’s ribs as she sat on her bed, bent over with her head in her hands. For a brief moment she itched to snap the chain and throw the blighted thing away, but she couldn’t bring herself to do so. It wasn’t as if she had been lied to, or as if she hadn’t always known that this was how things would end.

Finally Hawke couldn’t take the silence of her house any longer and got up to leave. The destruction caused by the Qunari in such a short time was even more evident in daylight but already people were cleaning up and fixing and gathering the dead for funeral pyres. The story of what had happened spread much too quickly and while nobody stopped Hawke she could hear the whispers around her, could she the worship in everyone’s eyes as they watched her pass.

The docks were nearly deserted, with anyone who knew what was good for them giving the Qunari compound a wide breadth. Already it was completely taken apart and those who remained among the Qunari were leaving the city, carrying their weapons and whatever belongings they had. Their army was nothing if not efficient.

The Arishok stood tall above everyone, overlooking the process with an impassive face. For a few moments Hawke debated the wisdom of approaching him, but her feet made the decision for her.

The Arishok turned slightly to look at her, arms crossed and face even harsher than usual. The dragon’s tooth still rested against his chest, and Hawke felt a brief glimmer of relief at the sight. She somehow had thought that he would have removed the thing by now. They stared at each other for a few moments.

“I thank you for returning our relic,” the Arishok said after a moment.

“No problem,” Hawke shrugged. “I just wish you’d have kept from burning down parts of the city beforehand. I’ll be cleaning up the mess for a while.”

She was proud that her jesting tone was mostly convincing.

They stared at each other for a few moments, and Hawke hoped that he wouldn’t offer for her to come along with him. Most places were better than Kirkwall, probably, but she knew that there was nothing for her on Par Vollen. She would not join the Qun, not even for him, and he knew it.

“We can return to Par Vollen, thanks to your actions,” the Arishok said, bowing his head slightly. “This will not be forgotten.”

Hawke gestured at the Qunari behind him.

“So what now? You return home, and what happens then?”

“I shall return the Tome of Koslun where it belongs. After that the demands of the Qun will have been met, and I will do what is asked of me.”

The Arishok watched Hawke for a few moments and she thought she saw something like regret in his eyes.

“Pray that we do not see each other again.”

Hawke raised her brows at him. There would be no reason for the Arishok to return to Kirkwall, not if he could help it. Unless it was with the force of a fully blown invasion behind him.

“I will pray that the circumstances are favourable, if it does happen,” Hawke said, her shoulders slumping in resignation. She had known, she had _known_ that this was never meant to be anything real, even if the hope for more had only flared recently.

“Asit tal-eb,” he said. “I am grateful to have known you.”

Hawke watched him place his hand over his chest, the claws of his fingers nudging against the dragon’s tooth.

“And so have I.”

The Arishok leaned down, one hand curling against Hawke’s neck. For a moment she thought he would kiss her, but instead he pressed his forehead to hers, the ridges of his horns nudging against her hair.

“ _Maraas kata_ , Hawke. Return to this city that does not deserve you.”

She took a shuddering breath and leaned against him before pulling away.

“Farewell, Arishok,” Hawke said, and turned her back on the retreating Qunari, their final touch lingering against her skin like a phantom pain.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my apologies for the delay

Skyhold was as far removed from the world’s problems as Hawke could possibly get, somehow at the very centre of the current crisis and yet reaching into the clouds on top of the mountains. One could nearly forget that there was a world beyond, if one avoided most people.

After Varric had written her, detailing the events at the conclave and what exactly had happened since, Hawke had found herself forced into taking on the burden of protecting other people once again. She had contacted the Wardens and made her way to the Keep, meeting up with her friend and the famed Herald of Andraste. The Elf woman was a few years younger than Hawke, a mage with a quiet disposition and sharp eyes, pale vallaslin standing out on her dark skin and the weight of the world on her unbent shoulders. She wasn’t exactly typical hero material, but she was precisely the kind of person Varric would befriend, and it wasn’t a surprise that Hawke found herself befriending her as well.

Eliana Lavellan gave Hawke the freedom to roam through the Keep as she pleased, over the protests of her advisors, and even stepped in when Varric found himself as the target of wrath. His lies about Hawke’s whereabouts had quickly earned him quite a bit of yelling, so Hawke had decided it was best to keep out of the way of Skyhold’s general populace as much as possible.

One of the towers along the battlements had broken walls and debris inside, not much use to anyone and only approached by the guards looking out into the mountains with watchful eyes. Hawke picked the most intact room and quickly made it as comfortable a dwelling as she could. There was an old bed, perfectly suitable once she requisitioned a mattress to replace the decomposing remains of the last one, and though the stones had cracks that let in the wind it was nicer than anything she’d called home in the past year.

She barely left the safety of her tower, other than to talk to Eliana and answer questions regarding the Wardens and to explain what she knew of Corypheus. It wouldn’t do to show her face where people might recognize her and decide to blame her for the events causing the death of the Divine, or the conflict between mages and Templars. She thought she recognised a few such mages and templars from Kirkwall. She definitely recognised Cullen, who treated Hawke with an awkward sort of civility. He’d left the order, from what she was told, and seemed to be unsure of how to act around her.

After the first few days of her self imposed isolation, boredom got the better of her and she made her way down towards the Herald’s Rest, if only to get something to drink. If anyone gave her shit there she could always blame drunkenness should she decide to lash out in retaliation.

Instead Hawke found herself in the company of people who didn’t seem to care less for her blame in the world state. Nobody recognised her until suddenly a Tal Vashoth approached her, nearly as massive as her lov- previous acquaintance, his horns standing out to the sides, as wide as his shoulders were broad. He was loud and friendly, inviting Hawke to sit with his mish-mash of a mercenary company that reminded her of her friends back in Kirkwall.

He introduced himself as the Iron Bull, former Ben Hassrath, and while undoubtedly informed of Hawke’s past, he did not seem to care. He was different from any other Tal Vashoth she’d ever met, and he seemed to hold no grudge whatsoever about her fighting off the Qunari in Kirkwall.

“They weren’t supposed to do that anyway,” the Iron Bull said with an easy shrug when Hawke, slightly drunk, asked him if he minded at all. “We...well, _they_ , now, have a new Arishok for a reason.”

Hawke had heard of this, of course, but the Iron Bull really didn’t seem to care so the Herald’s Rest quickly became the only spot she showed her face at all.

There were others of the Inquisitor’s close friends who frequented the establishment of course. There was Sera, an Elf who would often stare at Hawke in open appreciation and told loud jokes and tried to drink the Iron Bull under the table (unsuccessfully) as often as she could. And Dorian, a well groomed mage who Hawke was sure both Anders and Fenris would hate with a passion at first glance. He turned out to be quite a good drinking companion, with a humour no less rough than Sera’s, and kept asking Hawke about her adventures. 

It was not Kirkwall but… it was nice. The trio made it fun to drink with people again. They all had a stake in the things Hawke was involved in, but none of them felt the need to blame her on the outcomes either way. At most Hawke found herself questioned about the truth of Varric’s more dramatic tales.

Hawke found herself invested in people again, for the first time since parting with her own close knit group of friends. She watched Sera flirt her way through women that caught her eye and sigh wistfully over the Dwarven arcanist. Dorian and Bull occasionally acted disgustingly sweet when they weren’t keeping up their game of gentle mockery. From their witty banter it was clear that both of them had grown close. She even heard them snicker over how their beloved Herald apparently was flirting with Cullen; this led to demands of Hawke to disclose stories of the Commander from when she knew him as a Templar.

One night she grew comfortable enough to leave behind her armour and just enjoy a drink. As long as she stayed with her small group of new friends nobody would approach her anyway. The Iron Bull watched Hawke with a thoughtful expression, his eye fixed on where Hawke’s shirt was loose and unlaced. For a moment she thought that he was staring at her chest, before he leaned over and gestured at her.

“That. Is a dragon’s tooth.” 

It was a statement, not a question.

Hawke glanced down to see the familiar sight of her pendant. By now its weight was just part of her, and she didn’t think much of it during the day.

“Yeah. Slew a dragon and got this as a gift.”

The Iron Bull’s lips twitched in a strange half smile.

“I see. Must have been friendly with the Qunari in Kirkwall then. I recognise this craftsmanship.”

Hawke raised her eyebrows and shrugged.

“Of course I did. Can’t spend this much time trying to keep the peace without growing close to some of them. Though I never knew if Qunari actually saw me as a friend or just less of a nuisance than everyone else.”

The Iron Bull snorted and clapped her on the shoulder hard enough to send her lurching forward a little.

“Oh they did, trust me.”

Sera squinted and Dorian gave him a questioning look but the Iron Bull just shook his head with a whispered ‘later’.

Hawke didn’t think much of that exchange after, though she traced the ridges of the dragon’s tooth with her fingers that night, wondering, not for the first time, what had become of the man who had given it to her. She knew there was a new Arishok on Par Vollen, but beyond that there was nothing.

 

*

 

Hawke’s isolation led to her missing the new arrival at Skyhold. There was always someone coming and going, scouts and soldiers leaving on missions and nobles arriving, along with hopeful idealists who wished to pledge themselves to the Inquisition. 

She eventually learned, over a late breakfast at the Herald’s Rest, that a massive Qunari had arrived. More specifically, a Tal Vashoth, not that most of Skyhold knew of or cared for the difference. Other than the Iron Bull, nobody else at the Keep had left the Qun, though there were a few Vashoth about who had been born outside its influence.

The Tal Vashoth in question was apparently in the Keep now, being questioned by the Inquisition to figure out what his deal was. Due to a recent fallout with the Qunari, nobody was willing to let one in without a background check.

“He’s taller than the Iron Bull,” Hawke heard one of the barmaids whisper to a soldier, both women taking great interest in the rumours.

“No way! Even the Bull can barely walk through doors without scratching the door frames.”

“But I saw him! From a distance, sure, but he was next to Rickon and I know how tall _he_ is. And he had horns like-”

The barmaid made a gesture at her head, splaying out her fingers and eyes wide.

“Massive.”

Hawke snorted and let them to their talk. She was only mildly curious, but any strange arrival in Skyhold would spark the rumour mill.

It was only when her friends finally joined her for lunch the next day that Hawke thought about him again. Sera was chewing on a bread roll, freshly nicked from the kitchens, gesturing at Dorian.

“I’m just saying, it’s not like all of them horny guys know each other, yeah? But I think Bull might. He knows _everyone_.”

Dorian snorted and took a sip from his ale. He wasn’t even bothering to complain about it that day, apparently more interested in enjoying Sera’s wild hand movements.

“If our new guest is a Tal Vashoth then it doesn’t matter if Bull knows him. He’d be stripped of whatever he was before. A new person and all that,” the mage said.

“Hehe, bet you’d like to see him _stripped_ , eh?” Sera prodded him with her elbow.

Dorian rolled his eyes.

Hawke plopped down at the table before them, looking around to find the Iron Bull talking to his lieutenant in a corner.

“Are people still talking about the Tal Vashoth?” she asked, plucking one of the bread rolls from Sera’s plate. “What makes this guy so interesting? People come and go all the time.”

“Well for one, he’s this massive bugger with horns bigger than the Bull’s. Really, fancy pants, you could ditch him and do better-”

Dorian rolled his eyes at that and murmured “depends on his choice of trousers.”

“-and he carries himself like the Commander when he’s angry and getting all ready for battle, you know. Except not just for battle, he’s like that _all the time._ Has these massive weapons and armour like that? No wonder everyone’s intimidated. They’re still trying to decide what to do about him, cause he’s not giving much information beyond what he already said and Spy Lady needs to make sure nobody out to get to our Inquisitorialness or whatever.”

She took a bite from her food and shrugged.

“Guess they also don’t know what to do _with_ him. Big soldier like that walks in and seems to offer his services and where do you even put him?”

“How do you even know all that?” Hawke asked. “Is the Inner Circle getting to listen in?”

“I mean I guess we could,” Sera shrugged. “But the walls around the War Room have gaps and it’s easy to sneak a look and listen a bit, yeah? And they have maids bring drinks and firewood sometimes, I just asked her when I didn’t wanna listen in myself.”

Hawke hummed and picked at her bread roll idly. It probably wouldn’t be easy to have a former Qunari warrior integrated into the Inquisition forces. Cullen was a good leader, from what she saw, but Qunari just were completely different from human armies. The new one would probably need to go through training to be able to work with the rest easily.

“Oh but the best part,” Sera piped up again, evidently not done with chatting. “Is his armour. It’s all impressive, yeah?”

“Yes, and we’ll never hear the end of it,” Dorian sighed, glancing to where the Iron Bull stood.

“It’s _dragon_ ,” Sera whispered, eyes wide. “Black like obsidian but when the light hits it right it gets all purple and red! I wonder if Widdle could make that if we brought her some scale.”

Hawke froze in her motions. A former soldier of the Qunari, arriving in Skyhold and described as being taller than the Iron Bull and with massive horns… Just how many Qunari could possibly be any bigger than him? And with _dragon_ scale? That wasn’t exactly a material that was lying around on the street for grabs. And in those colours? What were the odds.

“Are you quite alright?” Dorian asked, and Hawke realized that her sudden agitation must be showing on her face.

“He’s in the War Room?” Hawke asked, her throat dry. She had to make sure it was actually him, she needed to know.

“Yeah, unless they found a different place to put him.”

Hawke stood up, her entire body tense. It couldn’t possibly be-

“Do you know who our guest is?” Dorian asked, looking up at her curiously. By now Sera had caught on to her strange mood as well, and the Iron Bull was making his way over.

“I’m not sure,” Hawke said slowly. “I’d have to see.”

Without waiting any longer she turned towards the exit and marched her way towards the Keep before she could reconsider. People were throwing her looks as she walked as fast as she could without breaking into a run, across the courtyard and towards the stairs. She was aware of her new friends following behind, either to stop her or simply curious themselves she didn’t know.

A long corridor stretched out before her with columns of light dissecting it where windows and gaps in the stone lay. Coming closer to the massive wooden doors Hawke could hear muffled voices, not angry or yelling, just discussing something and she could recognize Cullen and Eliana and-

With a loud creak the doors swung open after her shove, revealing the Inquisitor with her closest advisors, standing around their war table. A fifth person was there, taller than anyone else in Skyhold with horns and deep black dragon scale armour.

He turned, and Hawke’s eyes caught on a massive dragon tooth pendant before they snapped to his face.

“Basalit-an,” he said, the low rumble of his voice familiar as it resonated through Hawke’s chest. “Kadan.”

And then the man who had once been the Arishok stepped towards Hawke. He looked just the same, despite the lack of his war paint and a new kind of armour, and new scars-

For a second Hawke didn’t know what to do. Was she supposed to jump at him for a passionate embrace? Keep a respectful distance? A friendly handclap like she’d do with friends she hadn’t seen in years?

The decision was made for her when the Arishok placed his hands on her arms firmly and stepped into her personal space. He leaned down until their foreheads touched and Hawke pressed up into the touch. Her own hands rose to rest against his waist gently, a smile spreading across her face as she felt their noses brush together. It would only take a slight head tilt to kiss him, but Hawke found herself unwilling to break the contact.

“I am pleased to see you well,” the Arishok said then, straightening his posture but not taking a step away from her.

Hawke felt her cheeks beginning to ache at the stupid grin that was no doubt plastered on her face now.

“Glad to see you’re fine too,” she said.

“I see you two have already met?” Eliana said with a slight smile. Behind her Cullen looked quite a bit startled while Leliana seemed not startled at all, and Josephine smiled politely with eyes that shone at the prospect of gossip.

“Yeah! We’re right friends, aren’t we?” Hawke grinned, looking up at the Arishok again. He looked… different. The perpetual scowl on his face was still present, but no longer seemed quite as disgusted at the world around him. Skyhold must please him more than Kirkwall did.

“Yes, among other things,” the Arishok replied. His lips were curled in a near imperceptible way, coming as close to a smile as he ever had in front of others.

“What are you doing here,” Hawke asked then, glancing first at him and then at the others in the room. “And _here_ in particular.”

The Arishok looked at the Inquisitor, and then at the group that had followed Hawke. Only now did she notice that Sera, Dorian, and the Iron Bull had entered the room as well. The Elf and the Mage were staying slightly behind the Iron Bull; the Tal Vashoth had taken on an easy relaxed pose that Hawke knew was him being ready for combat. He looked calmly at the Arishok though, just as the Arishok’s eyes narrowed slightly and his nose flared as if he was sniffing the air.

“The former Ben Hassrath,” he said quietly, his hold tightening on Hawke slightly.

“I failed to meet the demands of the Qun,” the Iron Bull replied easily. “By choice.”

The Arishok stared at him for a few more seconds and then relaxed slightly, turning his attention away as if he had decided that the other man was no threat after all.

“I have come because there is no longer a place for me in the Qun,” he said calmly, as if the very idea of a Qunari leaving hadn’t repulsed him before. “I have committed too many mistakes to be fit to be the Arishok, but I have served too well to be wasted on any other position. For my past I have been stripped of my rank and have been cast from Par Vollen. There is nothing left for me there. This-“

He gestured towards the War Table and Eliana.

“-is bringing order to a world torn apart by chaos. The Qun does not need me, but I will not stop living by it.”

Hawke stared up at him, her smile slipping slightly. The implications hit her slowly.

“When was that?” she asked quietly.

“A few years ago,” the Arishok said with a slight shake of his head. “Asit tal-eb, kadan.”

Hawke threw a glance towards Eliana, who was watching with barely hidden interest.

“You’re letting him stay, yes?”

Eliana shrugged and Cullen cleared his throat slightly.

“We won’t turn him away. It’s only that… er… We are still discussing how to put the Arish- our guest to the best use. We can’t waste his considerable skills by putting him with the other soldiers, but we will have to think of what tasks there are.”

The former Knight Captain looked slightly apprehensive about working with a man who had once terrorized his city, but he seemed to be making an effort to put that matter aside.

“But we have talked about this so much already,” Josephine piped up with a smile, stepping past Cullen, who looked relieved. “We are unlikely to come to a conclusion just yet. Why don’t we retire for tonight and start again in the morning, with a fresh mind. It would give everyone an opportunity to reconnect with old friends.”

Everyone quickly agreed and Hawke leaned against the Arishok slightly. Her heart ached with relief and joy. It didn’t feel strange to be with him at all, his hand a familiar weight on her shoulder.

“Sounds good to me,” she said, a smug grin returning to her.

The assembly seemed officially over and Cullen offered to escort the Inquisitor out while Leliana and Josephine started speaking amongst each other quietly.

“I missed you,” Hawke said quietly, grinning up at the Arishok. He looked down at her for a few moments, expression unreadable as he thought of his words.

“I have thought of you often,” he said. “With great respect. You are still singular among all bas.”

Behind them the Iron Bull let out a quiet guffaw and Hawke glanced back at him to see Dorian give him a pained look.

“Didn’t think it’s be the Arishok, of all people,” the Iron Bull told her with a grin, gesturing around his collarbone to mimic the position of a necklace.

Hawke raised her eyebrow just as the former Arishok gave the other Tal Vashoth what could only be described as a massive stink eye.

“Come,” she said then. “I have my own room away from everyone else. Let’s catch up.”

Nobody protested, though the Iron Bull blinked slowly with his one eye in what she assumed was a wink and gave her a lewd grin. Sera and Dorian both gave her a thumbs up.

The Arishok followed her quietly, sticking close with a hand on one of his weapons. She led them through the not yet restored parts of the outer wall, trying to walk past as few people as possible.

The second they stepped into her room and Hawke closed the door the Arishok gathered her up into his arms, lifting her up and giving her what was definitely a passionate hug. His face was pressed against her hair and Hawke wrapped her arms around his neck. He was warm and smelled familiar, his body slotted against her perfectly.

They stayed like that for a few moments, before they parted. His weapons were placed aside carefully, and Hawke helped him undo his armour.

“I’m glad to see you got to make armour from that dragon scale I got you,” she said with a smile.

The Arishok sat down at the edge of the bed, pulling her into his lap and wrapping his hands around her hips.

“I was permitted to take my weapons and the armour when I left Par Vollen, nothing more. I am glad of it. Not many are allowed that.”

Hawke hummed in sympathy and brushed a strand of hair behind his pointed ear with a gentle touch.

“I’m sorry about you being… banished, I guess.”

For a few moments he didn’t say anything, eyes downcast.

“I had no orders to seize Kirkwall,” he said. “There was no use for my actions and I have gone against the Qun. I also returned the Tome of Koslun, so the punishment was this.”

His pale eyes snapped up to look at her.

“Yet I cannot regret this. I have no purpose, no name, nothing. I must find my own place in the world, and I choose to do this with you. Perhaps this is meant to be as well. I would follow you in my search for a purpose, if you wish it.”

Hawke sighed.

“Of course. Yeah, I attract misfits, and I have no place either. We really do match now.” She paused. “No name?”

He shook his head.

“I am no longer the Arishok. There is a new Arishok on Par Vollen, one born without horns, meant for greatness. No, I have no name, no role, I am no one.”

“So this means I shouldn’t call you the Arishok anymore?”

The Arishok turned up his nose.

“You can. But it is not true. I am no longer the Arishok.”

“Then we should find you a new name,” Hawke mused, running her hand over the horns of the Tal Vashoth formerly known as the Arishok.

“If you choose one for me, I shall go by it,” her lover replied.

“It doesn’t really work like that, I mean, _you_ need to actually like it, too. How about Shokkie?”

She grinned as he sneered.

“No? Okay then, how about… Asaaranda? You were known as that once, it still fits, doesn’t it?”

He looked up at her with surprise.

“You remembered,” the Arishok asked, expression softening. He seemed to show more emotion now, from the hour Hawke had spent with him, no longer trying to remain perfectly stoic or perhaps trying hard to show what he thought. “Very well. I shall think about this and I will tell you what my decision is.”

Hawke smiled and leaned down, kissing his cheek softly. His claws ran through her hair gently as his lips searched out hers to kiss her back, properly and sweetly. It was strange, but neither of them had anything to prove or anyone to answer to.

“If I can not have the Qun,” the Arishok said quietly. “Then I am glad that I can at least have you by my side.”

“I’m glad we found each other, after everything,” Hawke said with a smile. “There’s so much left to fix in this world, but I guess it’ll be easier together.”

The Arishok snorted and leaned his head to the side.

“It is strange, this Inquisition. So many disjointed parts, and yet it is the only thing that does what needs to be done.”

“Sometimes the motivation is all that people need. A hole in the sky does that.”

The Arishok huffed quietly and pulled Hawke closer against his body, seemingly just to enjoy the touch.

“They play with gaatlok. So many saarebas here, it is a wonder that the entire Keep has not burned to ashes yet. And even your leader? Has she been given this burden by the mark on her hand?”

“The Inquisitor? No, she’s always been a mage,” Hawke said, feeling a nagging sensation in the part of her head that housed a conscience. “And it’s really not so bad. The mages want a better world, they use their gifts wisely.”

“Wildfire unleashed,” the Arishok said. “I have never seen saarebas mingle with others so freely. Nothing good will come of it. And the one eyed Tal Vashoth? The smell of the Tevinter bas saarebas clings to him. I do not know how he maintains his sanity from the constant exposure.”

The Arishok shook his head with a laugh.

“Truly, the world outside the Qun is strange. I do not think I will ever understand it.”

His hand ran along Hawke’s back.

“To imagine myself with… a bas saarebas in that way? I do not think I could sink into that madness, even as a Tal Vashoth.”

He smiled slightly.

“But enough of this talk about saarebas. Tell me about what you have done in the years since our parting.”

Hawke ran her hand along the Arishok’s cheek gently, pausing. Taking a deep breath, looking at her hand, then at his gentle eyes.

“Yeah… So about _that_ -”

 

*

 

The Iron Bull sat on a bench outside the Herald’s Rest, tankard in hand and Dorian leaning against his arm reading a book. Sera was lazing around in the afternoon sun somewhere above them on her own little roof. It was a peaceful moment, despite the confirmation that the man who had once been the Arishok was truly in Skyhold. The Iron Bull had known of course, but now it was official. As a Tal Vashoth it didn’t matter what the man had once been, only that he was a warrior more skilled than most in all of Thedas.

And that he had somehow ended up in an affair with a human? Well, who’d have guessed that the body of the Qun himself would just go and bend the rules like that? He’d have a good chuckle about this for weeks to come.

A movement caught the Bull’s eye and he saw Hawke walk quickly down the stairs from her tower, eyes wide and lips pressed together.

“Everything alright?” he called when she came near. “Thought you’d still be enjoying your reunion.”

Hawke looked up at him.

“Yeah… That is postponed until… some other time.”

“Why, what happened?” Sera called down from the roof. “Does he need his ass kicked? What did he do? Say the word and I’ll fill his bedroll with toads.”

Hawke shook her head.

“Na he just… I think he just needs a moment to process a few things.”

The Bull watched her for a few moments as she ran a hand through her hair, waiting patiently for her to speak again. She noticed the looks everyone was giving her, and sighed.

“I just told him I was a mage.”

Another beat of silence as that information settled in. Then the Bull laughed so hard that Dorian startled away from him.

“You mean he didn’t _know_?” he got out between laughs, as Hawke nodded with a painful expression. “ _How_? Was he never so passionate in bed that he made you lose control of your magic? Must have been a mediocre lay if you never accidentally set the bed on fire.”

“That was _one time_ ,” Dorian cried out in exasperation, slamming his book closed. “This isn’t a _mage thing_!”

Bull ignored him as Hawke looked at him forlornly.

“Yeah so he erm…he’s just up there, staring at the wall. I wanted to give him some space to process that he f- uh… is with a mage. And has been for years. Yeah.”

“How the shit did you explain why you kept it from him the whole time you were together?”

“I um...might have said… _‘you never asked._ ’”

A unanimous groan went up from her companions.

“Do you need a drink?” Sera called up from above, and Hawke let out a breathless “Maker yes.”

Sera got up to walk back into the tavern and Hawke quickly made for the door, leaving the Bull alone with Dorian.

“Is this really that big a deal?” Dorian asked with a raised brow.

“Yeah, kadan. Imagine my hesitation from when we first met. Then multiply it by… I don’t even know, the biggest number you can think of.”

Dorian let out a chuckle and returned to his book, snuggling against his lover as the Bull settled back and grinned.

Oh he would have a good laugh about this for _years_ to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to those who read and commented on the fic, I'm so glad that people enjoyed it! And thank you to hattedhedgehog for being my beta and cheerleader all the way through


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